Someone to Watch over Me DISCONTINUED
by dmll8791
Summary: [Muggle!AU] Luna Lovegood is a drowning victim who was rescued by an Auror, Draco Malfoy. When no one can take care of Luna, Draco takes her to his home and finds that she is suffering from amnesia. Luna has no choice but believe him when Draco says they are lovers, and relies on him. As Draco searches for Luna's attacker, they both find themselves falling in love with each other.
1. Corpse on the Thames

_Forgive me for grammatical errors and spelling mistakes._

 ** _Disclaimer_** _– I own nothing! Some characters belong to J.K Rowling and some belong to Lisa Klyepas, and the plot belongs to Lisa Kleypas as well._

 ** _A/N_** _– As I said on the disclaimer, this plot of the story belongs to Lisa Kleypas in a novel of the same title, I just simply rewrite. But there will be some different points on this story. And Luna and Draco will be a bit OOC._ The story is set in the Victorian era.

* * *

Chapter 1

 _Ever since Draco Malfoy first saw her, he knew – despite the beauty she had – she would never be a bride to any man._

He followed the oarsman through the fog, a cold mist clinging to his skin and forming a grain of water on his woolen mantle. He shoved his hands into his pockets, while his eyes moved to observe the place. The river looks oil-coated in the dim light of a lamp hanging on giant granite blocks near where people get off the ship. Several small boats drove passengers across the Thames, bobbing like toys over water.

A cold March wind penetrated around Draco's face and ears and slipped behind his cravat. He held back the cold while staring at the river. Nothing can last more than 20 minutes in that cold water.

"Where's the body?" Draco grunted impatiently. He reached into his pocket and reached for his pocket watch. "I don't have all night."

The oarsman on the Thames stumbled while turning his head, glancing at the platinum blond haired man who was following him. "You're Malfoy, right? Mr. Malfoy himself... Woah, people will not believe if I tell them. The man guarding the king... I thought you didn't handle this kind of dirty stuff."

"I'm afraid not," Draco grumbled.

"This way, Sir. Watch your step. The stairs along the river are very slippery, especially on a humid night like this."

Clutching his jaw, Draco approached a dripping tiny body that was pulled onto the runway where the ship was tethered. In his work as a detective he had seen corpse many times, but the drowning victim certainly belonged to an unpleasant corpse. The body was facedown, but it was obviously a woman. Her body was lying with both hands bent like a rag doll abandoned by a haphazard child, the bottom of her dress dripping water around her foot.

Crouching beside her, Draco took her by the shoulder with a leather glove and began to turn her over. Draco immediately jumped back, startled, as the woman began to cough and spew water, her body twitched.

The oarsman started screaming in fear behind him. "I thought she was dead." His voice cracked in fears. "I swear, her body was very cold already."

"Idiot," Draco grumbled. How long had this poor woman been left in the cold, while the oarsman called the Auror to investigate? This woman's chance survived much bigger if she got immediate medical treatment. Draco turned the woman over and lifted her head to his knee, her long hair wetting his trouser. Her skin was very pale almost white under dim light, and there was a bump on the side of her head. Even so, the fine and feminine figures of her body are recognizable, Draco knows her.

"Dear, Merlin," whispered Draco. He's pretty sure he's never surprised with anything, but found Luna Lovegood here, like this... It's unbelievable.

Her eyes were half open, gloomy, not knowing that her death would be imminent. Luna is not the kind of woman who just lost without fighting. The woman moaned and her hands reached up, her hands brushing the front of Draco's vest in a weak attempt to save herself.

Without thinking long Draco lifted her body. Her body was small and solid, but with her dress full of water nearly doubled her weight. Draco held her high up to his chest, snarling uncomfortably as cold water wetting his clothes.

"Are you going to take her to Auror's office, Mr. Malfoy?" The oarsman rushed after Draco, who climbed two steps at a time. "I think I should come along and tell my name to Sir Kingsley. I've helped someone, haven't I found the lady before she died. No rewards, of course... doing the right thing is enough... but there might be a prize, right?"

"Find Dr. Remus Lupin," Draco said roughly. "Usually this kind of night he's in Tom's coffee shop. Tell him to come to my residence on King Street. "

"I cannot do that," the oarsman protested. "I have to work; you know... I can still get 5 shillings tonight."

"I'll pay you when you bring Lupin to King Street."

"But what if I don't find him?"

"You'll take him to King Street in half an hour," Draco replied coldly, "or I'll confiscate your ship – and I'll arrange for you to spend three days in jail. Is that enough motivation?"

"I always thought you were a good person," said the oarsman sourly, "until I meet you. You're nothing like what the _Daily Prophet_ says." The man stepped away with a short stride, disappointment clearly visible on his chubby face.

Draco smirked with a somber gloom. He is very aware of what his experience is drawn in every newspaper. The authors and editors exaggerated his success until he looked like a super human in the public eye. People think he is a legend and not a normal man with many flaws.

He made very lucrative job as a detective, earned a large sum of money from the taking of stolen goods from banks. He sometimes takes on other types of cases – finds a kidnapped heir, acts as a personal bodyguard for visiting members of the royal family, tracks the murders – but theft in the bank has always been his favorite case. And with every case settled, his name became more and more famous, to the point that he could be a topic of conversation at a coffee shop in London.

And most humorously, the upper society welcomes him as one of those who has a glorious life, where money is not a problem for them. They say a party will be bigger success if the host writes _'Mr. Malfoy will be_ _present'_ under the invitation. But with the popularity he gets among the nobility makes him feel that he is not really considered one of them. He is more entertainment figure in the high social class. Women are excited about the idea that he is a dangerous man, and men want friendships to make them look bolder.

The blowing cold air made the woman's body in his arms moan and shiver. Draco leaves the embankment and crosses a stone path covered with mud and animal dung. He continued walking through a small field filled with vats of water, stinking pig pens, and carts. Covent Garden is littered with fields like that, a place where dark animals are kept and diseases spread like nets. Every respectable man with common sense would think twice to go to this part of town, a place that is willing to kill for some shillings. However, Draco is not a gentleman; the underworld of London never scares him.

The woman's head slumped over his shoulder, her cold breath brushing his chin. "Well, Luna," Draco muttered, "there was a time when I wanted you in my arms... but this is not what I imagined."

He found it hard to believe that he was carrying the most desirable woman in London past the shabby corners and animal cages in the Coven Garden. The butchers and peddlers stop, looking curiously at him, while the prostitute comes out. "Come here, laddie," a woman with a chubby cheek resembling a scarecrow called out, "there's a fresh cream pot for you!"

"Next time," Draco said coldly, ignoring the harsh voices of the prostitute.

He crossed the northwest of the square and arrived at King Street, where old buildings turned into rows of neat modern houses, coffee shops, and one or two publishers. It is a clean and prosperous road where the upper class people live. Draco bought a spacious and elegant three-storey modern house there. The busy Auror's headquarters is not far away.

Draco quickly climbed the stairs by kicking the mahogany door aloud. Since there was no response from the inside, he backed away and kicked it again, this time louder, maybe loud enough to make the door broken. Suddenly the door opened and the housekeeper appeared, sparking a series of protests over his rough treatment on the polished wooden board.

Mrs. Buttons are women in her fifties with pleasant faces, good-hearted but tight-seated, hard worker, and have religious beliefs. It's no secret that she doesn't approve of Draco's profession. Nevertheless Mrs. Buttons relentlessly accepted the various guests from the crime world who came to his house, treated them all with courtesy and caution.

When she saw the body dripping in her slinger's arms, her expression was startled. "Oh my God!" Mrs. Buttons gasped. "What happened?"

Draco's muscles were getting tired of carrying a load of faint women that far. "Nearly drowned," he replied rudely, passing his housekeeper to the stairs. "I'll take her to my room."

"But how did it happen? Who is she?" Mrs. Buttons asked. "Shouldn't she be taken to St Mungos'?"

"She's an acquaintance," replied Draco. "I want her checked by a private doctor. God only knows what they will do to her in the hospital."

"An acquaintance?" Mrs. Buttons said, hurrying closer to Draco's quick pace. She obviously wanted to know more, but didn't dare to ask.

"Actually she's a prostitute," Draco said dryly.

"A prostitute... and you brought her here ..." Her voice was full of disapproval. "Sir, once again you put yourself in the worst situation."

A grimace flashed on Draco's handsome face. "Thank you."

"That's not a compliment," Mrs. Buttons tell him. "Mr. Malfoy, wouldn't you prefer one of the guest rooms to be prepared?"

"She'll sleep in my room," Draco said firmly.

While frowning, Mrs. Buttons ordered a maid to mop up the puddles they had left on the marble floored.

The modern house is decorated with long windows, Sheraton furnishings and handmade Persian carpets. The house was so much different from the creaky tenement house he lived in as a child, three rooms inhabited by eight children selling books and their mothers. His father was thrown into prison for debt and his family was scattered.

Draco finally found himself on the streets, until a fishmonger in Covent Garden put his mercy and gave him a job and a straw mattress for his bedding at night. As he snuggled against the heat from the kitchen stove, Draco dreamed of something better, though his dream never had a definite shape until the day he met an Auror.

An Auror was patrolling the crowded market and catching a thief snatching a fish from a fish man's stall. Draco turned toward to the Auror, with his fine red vest, equipped with a short sword and a gun. The man is looking bigger, bolder, stronger than an ordinary man. Immediately Draco knew the only hope of having a better life was to become an Auror. He enrolled at the age of eighteen, promoted on the Daily Patrol within a year, and a few months later selected by Kingsley Shacklebolt to complete an elite team containing half a dozen Aurors.

To prove that he is worthy, Draco devotes himself to his work with an endless spirit, treating every case as if it requires personal revenge. He did anything to catch criminals; he once followed a murderer across the English Channel and arrested him in France. With more success piling up, Draco begins to ask for more than usual wages for his personal services, which only makes him more desirable.

On the advice of a client he once helped, Draco invested in shipping and textile companies, bought some shares of a hotel, and bought selected properties in west London. With a little luck and determination, he climbed higher than he had intended before. At the age of thirty, he could retire with considerable wealth. However, he knows he can't resign as an Auror. The sensation and appeal of danger is a strong need for him.

In his bedroom Draco brings Luna to a king-sized canopy mahogany bed with ornate carvings on the head and legs. Many of the furnishings, including the bed, are made specifically to fit his size. He's tall and big, the doorway and the ceiling are always a scary specter for him.

"Oh, the sheet," Mrs. Buttons yelled when Luna's clothes wetting the heavy velvet fabric embroidered with gold and green silk. "The fabric will be broken!"

"Then I'll buy again," said Draco, stretching his aching arms and releasing his wet jacket. He dropped the jacket on the floor and leaned over Luna's stiff body. He intends to undress Luna as soon as possible by pulling the front of her dress. A cursed escaped his mouth when he had trouble removing her dress.

"I think the dress should be cut. I'll get the scissors," said Mrs. Buttons.

"No," Draco said coldly. He reached into his boot and pulled out an ivory knife with a pointed blade,

Mrs. Buttons gawked at Draco, who began cutting thick dress as if they were made of butter. "Oh, my goodness," Mrs. Buttons stammered. "No one is better to use a knife than a former Covent Garden fish man," Mrs. Buttons murmured quietly as he spread the sides of the dress, revealing most her white underwear. Luna's underwear was soaking wet and clinging to her snow-white skin. Draco had previously seen many women's bodies, but something about Luna's almost nude body made him hesitate. He struggled against the feeling he doesn't know. It's amusing, considering the fact that Luna Lovegood is an amazing prostitute.

"Mr. Malfoy," Mrs. Buttons squeezed the end of his apron nervously. "If you don't mind I can ask one of the maids to undress Miss..."

"Lovegood," Draco said.

"Miss Lovegood's dress."

"I'll take care of our guest," Draco mumbled. "I bet at least one male regiment has gotten something special to see Miss Lovegood's naked body. She'll be the first to say, _'just finish it and fuck with courtesy'._ Anyway, after the problems she faces tonight, she deserves a little fun."

"All right, Sir." Mrs. Buttons stared at him for a moment as if Draco was acting uncharacteristically.

Without any expression, Draco cuts her wet dress, slicing one arm and then the other. When he lifted Luna's upper body and jerked off the wet wool material, someone stepped through a half-open door and gasped.

Draco turned his head around, it was Dobby, his personal servant, a young man with green eyes and dark hair, he wasn't very tall and thin, and his face always showed as if he was always tedious and intimidated. But according to Mrs. Buttons, Dobby is a cheerful guy when he's not around or when there's no one around except Mrs. Buttons.

"Oh, God!" Dobby gasped and covered his eyes with both hands as he saw his master standing with a knife on a half-naked woman.

Draco snorted. "Try to make yourself useful, yeah? Get me one of my shirts and some towels. And after I think about it, tea and brandy will be good. Now, hurry up."

Dobby looks hesitant, but he knows it's better to never oppose Draco Malfoy. Carefully he looked away from the half-naked woman and grabbed the shirt and towels from the closet and handed it to Mrs. Buttons before he ran out.

Draco's desire to wrap Luna's body in warmer clothes suddenly becomes bigger and overcomes his desire to see her naked body. He just glanced at her body and then left the rest to Mrs. Buttons. But he will save his desire to enjoy her body later.

Luna's body wasn't perfect, but the promise of pleasure she gave was perfect. She has a charming little waist like most petite women, beautiful and round breasts and delicate and very feminine curves. No wonder if she became the most expensive prostitute in England. Luna is beautiful, young, sensual... the kind of woman every man wants in bed for days.

Mrs. Buttons covering Luna with sheets of thick linen and blankets, then Mrs. Buttons wrapped her hair in a towel. "She's a beautiful woman," Mrs. Buttons murmured, her face softening with mercy, "young enough to change her life for the better. I hope God chooses to save her life. "

"She will not die," Draco said dryly as usual. "I won't let her." He touched Luna's forehead and used his thumb to brush the strands of hair that slipped out of the towel. Carefully his fingers descended to her temple. "Although there will be someone who is disappointed to know she is alive."

"My apologies, Sir, I don't understand... oh." Suddenly Mrs. Buttons's eyes widened as her eyes followed Draco's finger that stopped at Luna's neck, she found a bruise that wrapped around her neck. "Looks like someone is trying to... to..."

"Strangle her," Draco continued flatly.

"Who would do such a thing?" Mrs. Buttons said out aloud, her forehead frowned in fear.

"Usually in the case of woman's murder, the culprit is a husband or a lover." Draco's lips curled into smirk. "Women are always afraid of strangers, but the ones who hurt them are men they know well."

Shaking her head at the thought of her master, Mrs. Buttons stood up and smoothed her apron. "If you want, Sir, I'll send balm for Miss Lovegood's bruise, then wait for the doctor downstairs."

Draco nodded, barely conscious when Mrs. Buttons had left his room, while he stared at Luna's face without expression. He fixed the damp cloth on her forehead gently. Caressing the pale curve of Luna's cheek with the tip of his index finger, and made a sullen and gloomy sound in his throat. "I swear you'll regret the day you made me look like a total fool, Luna," he mumbled. "However, the opportunity came much faster than I thought."


	2. Waking up

_Forgive me for grammatical errors and spelling mistakes._

 ** _Disclaimer –_** _I own nothing! The characters belong to J.K Rowling and the plot belongs to Lisa Kleypas._

 ** _A/N_** _– I remind you once again that I simply rewrite Lisa Kleypas's novel with the same title, so I wish no one would accuse me of plagiarism._

 _ **Guest** – Lol, I wouldn't have the heart to make Harry as Draco's personal servant. But frankly that's how I imagine if Dobby is a human being._

 **** _– Thank you very much, I hope you enjoy this chapter._

* * *

Chapter 2

She woke up from her nightmare, she felt cold and in pain. Breathing becomes a very difficult thing to do. Her throat and chest were burning. As she tried to speak, she made a harsh and weak voice, then winced in pain. "Oh..."

A pair of strong hands improved her posture, pushing the pillow to the back of her head, then combing her messy hair that covering almost her entire face. The masculine voice is caught by her ears. "Don't try to talk. This, it will help." She felt the tip of a warm spoon on her lips, she trying to avoid it by turning her head. However, the man insisted, the man's big hand cupped behind her head and brought the spoon closer once more. She opened her mouth with difficulty. She swallowed a spoonful of warm tea despite her sore throat.

"Good girl. Drink again."

She forced herself to swallow the second and third. Then she put her head back on the pillow, and the blanket was pulled closer to her chin. And that's when she tried to open her eyes; she winced as the lights greeted her. A strange man leaned over her, half his face covered with shadows, but she was still able to see him. The man has blonde hair, brighter than hers, she notes, she looks attractive. His skin was pale, but not as pale as most men from the upper classes. His jaws are clean without sideburns and beards. His hard face was filled with long nose and cold gray eyes, an odd, cynical, perceptive eye.

"Dead...?" She asked in a husky and hoarse voice. It feels painful as she talks, moves, and breathes. It's like there are needles piercing her body repeatedly, and the shackles that surround her lungs make it almost impossible to breathe. What's the worse is her muscles tremble violently, trembling that tortures her bones and joints until she fears her body can't take it anymore.

"No, you will not die," the man said quietly. "The trembling will stop. It often happens in such case. "

Case? What happened to her? Why is she here? Her swollen eyes were flooded with confused tears. "Thank you," she panted, though she didn't know why she was grateful. She fumbled for the man's hand, needing the comfort of human touch to remind her that she was alive and breathing. The man shifted, sat by her bedside, his weight pressed on the mattress, and she felt the man clutching her fingers. The heat of his skin made her skin burn.

"Please don't leave," she whispered, holding the man tighter. "Please."

The man's masculine face softened under the light. "I cannot bear to see a woman's tears. Keep crying and I'll go."

"All right," she bites her lips trying to hold back her tears. However, tears continued to drip, the stranger cursed softly.

The man grabbed her body with a blanket and carefully pulled her in a hug. She sighed as she felt the movement. He is very strong while resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm cold..." she said near her ear.

"Well, swimming on the Thames will make you feel that way," the man said dryly, "especially in a season like this." She felt his breath brushing against her forehead, warmth, and overflowing with enormous gratitude. She never wanted to leave his arms.

Her tongue felt thick as she tried to moisten her lips. "Who are you?"

"Don't you remember?"

"No, I..." Memories and shadows avoided her efforts to catch them, it wasn't clear. She can't remember anything. There is only emptiness in all directions.

He helped her lie her head back on the pillow slowly. He smiled slightly at her. "Draco Malfoy."

"What's happened to me?" She struggled to think, ignoring the disturbing pain and annoyance. "I was in water before-" She remembered the cold burning her eyes and throat, clogging her ears, paralyzing her arms. She lost in her struggle for air, she felt her lungs explode. "Someone pulled me out. Is that you?"

"No. A rower found you and asked the Auror to come. I just happened to be free tonight." His hand moved slowly to rub her back. "How did you get to be in that river, Luna?"

"Luna?" She repeated in bewilderment and despair. "Why are you calling me by that name?

There was a moment of silence that made both of them terrified. She thinks she'll recognize the name... Luna... she's trying to think of memories that can be attached to that name. But she didn't find anything, it was hollow.

"Who is Luna?" She forced her throat to work. "What happen with me?"

"Calm down," he said. "Don't you know your own name?"

"No... I don't know, I... can't remember anything..." Her body trembled with a sob of fear. "Oh... I think I'm going to throw up."

Draco moved quickly and grabbed a bucket by the bed. She vomited without taking anything out. Her body shook violently and her head felt heavy. When her nausea was gone, she leaned on his body weakly; it was like she had lost her bones. He grabbed her body and lay her head on his tight thighs.

"Help me," she moaned.

"It is okay. Don't be afraid."

Amazing, though obviously nothing is fine and a lot of things for her to fear, she feels the comfort of his voice, his touch and presence. Both hands move gently and calm her each muscle. "Breathe," he said. She vaguely asks if she has been in heaven.

"My head hurts," she said in a hoarse voice. "I feel so weird; I think I'm going crazy. Where am I?"

"Get some rest," he said, "we'll figure it all out."

"Tell me what your name is again?" She asked in a husky voice.

"My name is Draco. You're at my house and you're safe. "

Somehow she could feel that he didn't want to be nice and polite to her, but he couldn't help himself. "Draco," she repeated catching his warm hand over her chest; she weakly pressed his hand to her heart. "Thank you." She felt his thighs tightening under her head. Tired, she closed her eyes and fell asleep on his lap.

Draco laid Luna down and covered her. He tried to understand what had just happened. He has helped many women who have difficulty. He could no longer feel sorry for the sight of the tormented girl, he just simply numb. He hasn't been crying for years. Nothing could penetrate the protective skin that formed around his heart.

But Luna, with her dangerous beauty and sweetness he had never expected before, had a big impact from what he thought. He can't ignore the pleasure of seeing her at his home ... in his bed.

His palm was sweating as he felt her heartbeat, as though her life was caught beneath his hand. Draco longed to be there and cling to Luna, not for lust but out of desire to provide her with warmth and protection with his body.

His hand rubbed his face roughly, down his short hair. He stood up, growling. What happened to him?

The only memory he had when he met Luna, two months ago, and still fresh in his mind. He saw Luna at the birthday party that Lord Wentwort had held for his mistress. The party was attended by various circles, demimondes, half high-class prostitutes, gamblers, and dandy men who didn't deserve top class. Draco doesn't know which circle he belongs to, but he is sure he is not a prostitute, a gambler, let alone a dandy man; he doesn't even want to think that he belongs to the demimonde. He mixed with anyone, king, servant, even killer. He guessed he wasn't belonging anywhere.

 _The banquet hall decorated with elaborate gypsy ornaments depicting the god of Neptune, mermaids, dolphins, and fish, is a suitable backdrop for Luna. She herself really looks like a mermaid, wearing a green silk dress that hugs her curves perfectly. Her neck line was low with a sweetheart neckline and showed her swelling breasts._

 _The scene felt like a blow in the stomach. She is not exactly pretty in the classical sense, but full of vigor as a burning fire, with a combination of sweet and enchanting charm on her face. Her mouth is fantasy, full, gentle, very physical. She had the most beautiful ivory white shoulder he had ever seen._

 _Realized he had been staring at her like a starving dog, Luna turned her face to him, her red lips curling into an inviting and sneering smile._

 _"Ah, I noticed you've met Miss Lovegood." Lord Wentworth appeared beside him with his sour expression on his wrinkled face. "I'm warning, my friend Luna Lovegood has left a lot of broken hearts behind her."_

 _"Whose she belong to?" Draco muttered, knowing that a woman with such beauty couldn't be unbound._

 _"Lord Gerard, until recently. He was invited to the party, but he refused without explanation. I think he's treating his wounds, while she's looking for a new patron." Wentworth chuckled at the speculative expression on Draco's face. "No need to think about it, man."_

 _"Why not?"_

 _"As a beginner, she will demand a lot of treasure."_

 _"And if I can afford?" Draco asked._

 _"She loves men with titles and has been married, and ... well, a little more subtle than you. I didn't mean to offend you of course."_

 _"I'm not offended," Draco murmured automatically. He never tried to cover up his hard and dark background; sometimes he used it, many women who feel passionate about his job and his family pedigree. Maybe Luna Lovegood will enjoy a change from the protection of men without a degree._

 _"A dangerous woman, you know," Wentworth said. "They said two weeks ago she made a poor bastard commit suicide."_

 _Draco smirked. "I'm not the kind of man who would commit suicide just because of a woman, my lord."_

 _He continued to observe Luna, who pulled out a small box from the beaded purse. She opened the box and stared at herself in the mirror. Carefully, she brushed her red lips with a handkerchief. It was obvious that she was only half listening to the man near her who – in earnest, tried to involve her in the conversation. Luna who was annoyed with the man hinting at the long table filled with food. The man immediately went and got food for her, and she looked back at her reflection in the mirror._

 _Draco sees a chance and grabs a glass of wine. He approached Luna who closed the box hard and slipped it back into her handbag._

 _"Back so soon?" She asked without looking at him, her voice sounded lethargic and bored._

 _"Your companion should know he shouldn't leave a beautiful woman for granted,"_

 _Luna's blue eyes stared at him in surprise. She picked up the glass Draco offered from his hand and sipped gracefully. "He's not my companion." Her voice sounded like an angel song. "Thank you. I'm thirsty." She took another sip and her eyes still stared at Draco. Like most successful prostitutes, she has a way of hooking a man as if he were the only man in the room._

 _"You kept looking at me," Luna said._

 _"I didn't mean to be rude."_

 _"Oh, I'm used to it," she replied._

 _"I'm sure of that."_

 _She smiled, showing a glimpse of her pearl-white teeth. "We haven't been introduced yet."_

 _Draco smiled back. "Should I find someone to do it?"_

 _"No need. You are Draco Malfoy, an Auror. It's just a guess, but I'm sure it's true."_

 _"Why do you think so?"_

 _"You're what people describe. You're tall, your grey eyes is pretty special." Luna pursed her lips thoughtfully. "But there's something else about you ... the feeling that you're not comfortable in this environment. I'm guessing you'd rather do something else than stand in an almost crowded room like this and have a chat. Your cravat is too tight."_

 _Draco smiles as he loosens his cravat, it feels like a chain tying his neck, a stupid thing. "You're wrong about one thing, Miss Lovegood – there's nothing I like more than talking to you."_

 _"How do you know my name, Sir? Is there someone who told you about me? I demand to know what that person has said."_

 _"I was told you broke a lot of hearts."_

 _She laughed, obviously comforted by his praise. "Correct. But I suspect you broke a lot of women yourself too."_

 _"Breaking the heart is pretty easy, Miss Lovegood. The more interesting challenge is how to keep someone's love and not eliminate it."_

 _"You're talking about love too seriously," she said. "After all, love is a game."_

 _"Is it true? Tell me your rules."_

 _"Quite similar to chess, I planned my strategy carefully. I sacrificed the pawn when it is not needed. I never opened my real thoughts to my opponent. "_

 _"Very pragmatic,"_

 _"It's necessary for someone in a position like me." Her smile slightly changed as she looked at Draco. "I don't like your expression, Mr. Malfoy."_

 _Draco's early interest in her has begun to fade as he begins to imagine any relationship with her, it will not end anywhere. She's manipulative, tough, offering sex without a definite relationship. Draco wants more than that, no matter how beautiful she looks._

 _Her eyes searched for something on Draco's face that showed no expression, she frowned slightly, making her look even more beautiful. "Tell me what your rules are, Mr. Malfoy."_

 _"I have only one," he replied, "total honesty between me and my partner."_

 _Giggles escaped from her mouth. "That can be pretty uncomfortable, you know."_

 _"Yes I know."_

 _Luna obviously feels confident with her charms; posing and making herself look attractive in front of Draco, puffing out her chest, resting one of her hands in the elegant curve of her waist. Draco knows he should admire her, but instead he can't stop wondering why so many beautiful women are cool to themselves._

 _Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Luna's previous companion returning with a quick and anxious move, his hand clutching a plate of snacks. Obviously the man was determined to defend his territory, and Draco wasn't interested in arguing with him. Luna Lovegood doesn't deserve to be fussed in public._

 _Luna followed his gaze and sighed. "Get me to dance before the boring guy gets back," she said in a low voice._

 _"I'm sorry, Miss Lovegood," Draco muttered, "but I hate having to make him lose you, especially after he's struggling to get food."_

 _Luna's eyes widened when she realized that she had been rejected. Her face flushed, she touched her cheek several times to cover up the red hue before giving a humiliating reply. "Maybe we'll meet again, Mr. Malfoy. I'll call you if a pickpocket or a mugger disturbs me."_

 _"Please," Draco replied politely and left after a brief bow._

Draco thought the matter was over. Unfortunately, their short encounter is not missed by the other guests; Luna tries to get revenge by explaining the situation with the other version and making people gossiping about him. Luna gently says indirectly to a group of gossips that The Astonishing Draco Malfoy gave her an offer, which she immediately rejected. The notion that a famous Auror tried and failed to win Luna Lovegood was greeted with humor everywhere. "He's not as dangerous as ordinary people say," someone said cunningly at close enough for Draco's hearing, "he's so easily controlled by women."

Draco's self-esteem was wounded by the deliberate deployment of lies ... but he managed to keep quiet. He knows, like any other rumor, it will end up faster if nothing he says to further fuel the fire. Still, hearing Luna's name is irritating him, especially as people watch his reactions carefully. He did everything possible to make people see clearly that he didn't care, promising himself that Luna would regret the lies she had spread. It is a promise he still holds and is determined to fulfill.


	3. Dr Remus Lupin

_Forgive me for grammatical errors and spelling mistakes._

 ** _Disclaimer_** _– I own nothing! The characters belong to J.K Rowling and the plot belongs to Lisa Kleypas from a novel with the same title._

* * *

Chapter 3

Draco stepped toward the window; he pushed the black curtain aside and stared out. Impatiently he looked for signs of Remus Lupin on the dark, lonely street. In less than a minute, a carriage stopped in front of his house. Remus stepped out of the carriage, he wasn't in a hurry, but his steps were long.

Draco waited at the door of the room, nodded as a greeting to the doctor as he approached the main staircase with the house keeper. Remus's proactive and intellectual attitudes made him one of the most sought-after doctors in London. His popularity is also not disturbed by the fact he is a handsome bachelor in his late 20s. The wealthy women from the upper classes tries with all their might to demand his services, claiming only Dr. Remus Lupin can cure them, even they take headaches seriously. Draco often felt amused. Instead of getting a serious case, he is even busier accepting ridiculous cases.

They both shook hands briefly. They respect each other, two men with professions that are inversely proportional.

"Well, Malfoy," Remus said graciously, "this should be worth it because you dragged me out of a glass of coffee with brandy in Tom's. What is wrong? You look healthy."

"There's someone who needs your attention," Draco said as he opened the door and let the doctor into the room. "She was dragged from the Thames about an hour ago. I brought her here and she was awake for almost ten minutes. Strangely, she doesn't remember anything, not even her own name. Is that possible?"

Remus's eyes narrowed as he thought. "Yes, of course. Missing memories are common. Its biogs is caused by age, excessive alcohol consumption–"

"What about a blow to the head and almost drowning?"

Remus frowned with pity. "Poor lady," he murmured. "Yes, I've handled a case caused by a blow to the head. He was injured in an accident at the shipyard – a falling beam struck right in his head. When he awoke, he was tremendous confusion. The habit of walking, writing, reading is easy for him, but not with the ability to recognize his family members and cannot remember anything in his past."

"What's his memory back?"

"Within five or six months, but I heard another case when the memory came back in a few days. There is no way to predict how long, only God knows. It could even be that her memory will never return," Remus said as he walked past Draco toward the bed. As he leans down to observe his patient's condition, he mutters softly but full of shock which unfortunately can be heard by Draco, "Miss Lovegood."

"Did you check on her before?"

Remus nodded, looking worried. Something about Remus's expression made Draco wary of the fact that he had visited Luna, either for headaches or more service.

"What for?"

"You know I can not divulge it."

"She can't remember anything – it will not make any difference to her whether you tell me or not."

Remus stays firm to his stance, he is professional after all. "Are you willing to leave this room, Malfoy, while I check my patient?"

Before Draco could answer, Luna woke up and moaned. She rubbed her eyes and narrowed her eyes as she noticed the presence of someone other than Draco. Strangely, Draco already used to Luna's presence is able to sense her mood, she is in panic. He approached the bed in only three steps and took her still trembling hand. His grip on her hand seemed to calm her down.

"Draco," Luna called hoarsely, her eyes moving toward Draco's face.

"The doctor's here," Draco mumbled. "I'll wait outside while he checks you. How?"

Luna takes a long time to think before nodding lightly

"Good girl." Draco gently slipped strands of hair behind her ear.

"You two seem to be familiar," Remus said.

"That's because I know how to deal with women," Draco said. "They can't refuse my appeal."

Remus's mouth lit up on a ludicrous smile. "Appeal? I never thought you had it."

They both were surprised to hear the weak and vague voice of Luna who joined in the conversation. "That's because you're not a woman."

Draco smiled forcibly. She may be in her worst condition right now, but her seduction skills don't even leave her. God help him, he thought wryly. "Stepping up to defend me, eh?" Draco murmured as he reached out and stroked Luna's cheek with the tip of his finger. "I'll thank you later."

Her face flushed. Draco wasn't even aware that his tone sounded seductive, he realized only when Remus looked at him with a speculative glance.

Draco immediately left the room, frowning irritably. He leaned against the wall and grunted softly. "Damn you, Luna."

It is very easy to reject Luna before, when he knows she is shallow, arrogant, and manipulative woman. He will not characterize her again if she doesn't hurt his pride by spreading lies throughout London. Draco hated her for it.

However, there are times when a person becomes vulnerable, and Luna's time has come. Did she really lose her memory or did she just pretend? If her memory is really lost... she will not have any protection. Suddenly he wondered how many men were given the chance to get to know the real Luna? None. Draco dares to risk his life.

A gentleman will not take advantage of this situation. However, he is not a gentleman.

He had promised himself that Luna would pay for her niggling game – and she would pay for it, plus interest. Now that she belongs to him, she will not go anywhere until his self-esteem is healed. He will please himself with her as long as he wants, or until her memories come back. Depending on which one arrives first.

He smiled with satisfaction; the aching pain that had ever felt in his chest would subside.

After a very long time, Remus opens the door and invites Draco in; Luna looks calm but tired her face very pale. A hesitant smile graced her lips as she saw him.

"Well?" Draco asked, while Remus collected his medical device in his leather bag.

Remus raised his eyes. "It seems that Miss Lovegood is suffering a concussion, though not seriously."

Draco's eyes narrowed as he heard an unfamiliar word.

"The blow to the skull," Remus continued, "resulted in a disruption to the brain. Impact usually lasts for several weeks, maybe a month. And there are other effects, such as confusion, nausea, and physical weakness, also, in this case, amnesia."

"How are you going to take care of her?" Draco asked shortly.

"Unfortunately, the symptoms of concussion, including amnesia, heal by itself. There's nothing I can do but suggest to rest. I don't think Miss Lovegood will have a prolonged problem with this night's experience, though next night she will feel uncomfortable. I left some powdered medicines for the effects of sea water that she swallowed and balm for bruises. I didn't find any evidence of a fractured bone or internal injury, just a sprained ankle." He went to Luna's side and patted her hand lightly. "Go to sleep." He advised gently. "That's the best advice I can give."

Remus grabs his bag and crosses the room, stopping near the doorway to speak with Draco in person. His serious eyes met Draco's eyes, and he spoke too softly to Luna's hearing. "There are traces of fingers on her neck, and signs of resistance. I guess you'll investigate it?"

"Of course,"

"Obviously the amnesia suffered by Miss Lovegood will make your job as difficult as possible. I don't have much experience in this kind of business, but I know the mind is a fragile instrument." Then his tone becomes more serious. "I strongly recommend that Miss Lovegood stay in a quiet environment. If she's better, maybe she can visit some places and familiar people to help get her memory. Anyway you might hurt her by making her remember something she's not ready for."

"I will not hurt her," Draco said, frowning irritably.

"Well, your skill in questioning is very famous. I hear you can get confessions from criminals from the upper classes... and just in case you forced Miss Lovegood's memory back–"

"I understand," Draco grumbled, offended. "Oh my God, people would think I liked kicking dogs and scaring children."

Remus chuckled at his annoyance. "I know your reputation, mate. Good night – I'll send you the bill right away."

"Just do it." Draco didn't bother to hide his impatience.

"One more... patient with concussion is very fragile, the second trauma to the head, probably because a fall can be dangerous or even fatal."

"I'll take care of her."

"All right, Malfoy." Remus smiled warmly at Luna. "Au revoir, Miss Lovegood. I'll be back in a few days."

Mrs. Buttons turned her head from behind the door and her eyes fixed on Draco. "Sir? Anything else you need?"

"Not for now." Draco murmured, and watched his housekeeper accompany Remus to the main staircase.

"What reputation do you have?" Suddenly Luna asked weakly. Apparently she heard Remus's remarks to him.

Draco approached her. He linked his fingers and straightened his legs and crossed them. "Damned if I know." He shrugged his shoulders irritably. "I am an Auror. People who work as Aurors always lie, hide things, and avoid questions. I just have a way to get the truth, and it makes them feel uncomfortable."

Despite being tired, amused turmoil appeared in Luna's blue eyes. "You have a way," she repeated drowsily. "What does it mean?"

Suddenly Draco smiled broadly, unable to bear to approach and straighten the hair that covered some of Luna's face. "That means I'll do whatever it takes to find the truth."

"Oh." Luna yawns, trying to stay awake, but she's too tired. "Draco," she said softly. "What reputation do I have?"

Before Draco could answer she fell asleep.

Draco woke up as the dim light of the morning sun passed through the window. Surprised, he stared at the ceiling in the guest room, thinking his eyes would meet a wine-colored canopy on his bed. Suddenly he remembered the night before. No sound from Luna thought. He wondered how things were after last night. She has experienced too much in one night, maybe she will sleep all day.

Hooking his hands behind his head, Draco lay for a few minutes, thinking of Luna, she was here, in his house, only a few rooms away from him. It's been a long time since a woman was in his house. Luna Lovegood, beneath his compassion... The thought comforted him. The fact that she didn't remember anything that happened between them only added to the excitement of the situation.

Yawning he rose gracefully. He rang the bell to call his personal servant, approached the nearest chair, he grabbed the linen shirt and the gray trousers they had prepared for him. The morning routine has been formed from years of habit. He always wakes up at sunrise, finishes his morning ritual and dresses in 20 minutes, spends the next half hour with a large serving breakfast and reads the _Daily Prophet_ , then goes to the Auror office on foot. Kingsley Shacklebolt asked all the Aurors who were not on duty to report before 9 am.

In less than 5 minutes his personal servant, Dobby, appeared with a jug of hot water to shave with all the equipment. At the same time, a maid rushed off the fire and tidied it up.

Draco poured hot water into the basin and splashed water on his face. After shaving, he wore a white shirt, a gray vest, and a black silk cravat. The Auror's official uniforms consist of red vests, blue suits and dark blue trousers, and polished shiny black boots. On average body, the bright colors inspire the public to call them 'Robin Redbreasts', a red-chested Robin bird – making them look like a dandy. However, in men with abnormal body height, the effect is surprising.

Draco prefers clothes with dark colors such as black, dark blue, dark green, or even gray. He prefers color that shows to public he has no soul. He also chooses the unsweetened stuff besides the pocket watch. He also preferred to dress himself without the help of servants. He found standing still while someone else dressed him is very ridiculous, or rather disgusting. He's a grown man with a healthy body, not a kid who needs help in dressing. When he expressed his opinion to one of his friends in the upper circle, he said in amusement that it was one of the essential differences between the lower classes and the nobles.

After tying the silk cravat with a simple knot, he grabbed a comb and combed his platinum hair back while staring at himself in the mirror. When he finished, he grabbed his gray jacket, he heard a strange voice from Luna's room.

"Luna," he muttered, dropping his jacket. He reached the master room in just a few steps, entering without bothering to knock on the door. The maid had apparently arrived and lit a small fire in the fireplace.

Luna tried to get up from the bed, a linen shirt wrapped around her thighs. Her hair loosened with a mess on her back. She stood on one foot, keeping her balance with difficulty. Her sprained ankle is wrapped and swollen; she clearly in pain as she takes a step.

"Anything you need?" Draco asked, and she looked surprised to hear his voice. She didn't look better than last night, her face was pale, her eyes were still puffy, her neck was bruised. "Do you want to go to the restroom?"

The frontal question seemed to make Luna so ashamed. A red hue was visible on her pale face. The sight of a flushed adult woman is not something to miss, Draco thought in amusement.

"Yes, thank you," Luna muttered, her voice hoarse and tense. She stumbled around nervously again. "Do you mind to tell me where-"

"I will help you."

"Oh, no, really-" Luna gasped as Draco carried her, her body looking small and light on Draco's chest. Draco took her to the restroom just two doors down the corridor, while Luna pulled on her linen shirt to cover her thighs. The attitude that Draco thinks is odd for a prostitute. Luna is famous for her wild attitude in sexual matters, not to mention her inviting dress style. Modesty has never been included on her list. Why now she looks so miserable?

"Soon your body will become stronger," Draco said. "In the meantime, you must stay in bed and not use your feet. If you want something, call one of the maids."

"Okay, thank you." Luna's small arms wrapped around Draco's neck. "I'm sorry to have troubled you, Mr..." Luna hesitated, and Draco knows she forgot his last name.

"Call me Draco," Draco replied, lowering her gently to the floor. "And no problem."

Luna came out of the restroom a few minutes later, looking surprised to find Draco still there. She looks no bigger than a kid, wearing his shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the shirt's tip reaching above her knee. Her gaze met Draco's, and she returned his friendly smile with a sheepish smile.

"Better?" Draco asked.

"Yes, thank you."

Draco held out his hand. "Let me help you get back to bed."


	4. Familiarity

_Forgive me for grammatical errors and spelling mistakes._

 ** _Disclaimer_** _– I own nothing. The characters belong to J.K Rowling, and the plot belongs to Lisa Klyepas in a novel with the same title._

* * *

Chapter 4

Luna hesitated before bobbling toward him. Carefully Draco reached around her slender body, hooking one arm to her back, another arm beneath her knees. Although he lifted her with extreme gentleness, careful of the bruises on her body, Luna gasped as Draco held her to his chest. Of all the women he ever held in his arms, none ever possessed such lush, exquisite delicacy. Her bones were slender, but her flesh was pliant, voluptuous, utterly desirable.

Returning to the bedroom, Draco eased Luna onto the bed, fumbling to arrange a stack of pillows behind her. She tugged the blanket upward, bringing them high over her chest. Despite her dirty and disgusting reputation, he was struck again with disconcerting urge to cuddle and caresses her. He, who was known possessing a heart of granite, or some similarly impenetrable substance. "Are you hungry?" He asked hoarsely.

"Not really."

"When the housekeeper brought a tray of food, I want you to eat something,"

For some reasons his commanding tone made Luna smile. "I will try."

Draco stood froze in place by her smile… lucent and warm, a flush of magic that illuminated her delicate face. It was so unlike the self-absorbed woman he had met at Wentworth's ball that he wondered briefly if she was the same person at all. Yes she was, unmistakably, Luna

"Draco," Luna said hesitantly. "Will you bring me a mirror, please?" Luna touched her cheek awkwardly. "I don't know what my face looks like."

Draco, who somehow managed to take his eyes off her, went to the cabinet in the corner. He ransacked the small drawer and found a mirror. As he returned to the side of the bed, Draco handed the mirror to Luna.

Luna reached for the mirror and held it close to her face, but her hands were still shaking from last night. Draco reached out and helped hold the mirror while Luna scanned her reflection in the mirror. Her hand were cold on his skin, her fingers look stiff and bloodless. Luna's eyes widened and she seemed almost unable to breathe.

"It feels very strange," she said, "not recognizing my own face."

"You have no reason to complain," said Draco hoarsely. Even with the worst conditions, her face is still beautiful.

"You think so?" Luna stared into the mirror without the slightest of satisfaction like she'd shown at the party. The Luna he met at the party had no doubts about her amazing appeal. But the woman sitting on his bed didn't have confidence at all.

"Everyone thinks so. You're known as one of the most beautiful women in London."

"I don't see why." As she captured the skeptical expression of Draco's face, Luna added. "Truly, I'm not trying to lure praise, it's just... my face is very ordinary." She makes funny expressions, like kids who are experimenting with their reflections in the mirror. Laughter escaped from her mouth. "Like this face is not my face." Her eyes glinted like diamonds, and Draco realized with anxiety that she was going to cry.

"No," Draco murmured. "I told you last night how I feel about crying."

"Yes ... you can't stand a woman's tears." Luna wiped her wet eyes with her fingers, a weak smile on her lips. "I didn't think that an Auror would be so sensitive."

"Sensitive?" repeated Draco irritably. "I'm as hard-shelled as they come." He grabbed a linen handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face.

"Are you?" Luna took out the last sob and watched Draco. Draco saw the signs of laughter appearing behind the last teardrop. "You seem rather soft-shelled to me."

Draco opens his mouth about to argue, but he suddenly realizes that she's just teasing him. "I'm about as sensitive as a millstone,"

"I'll reserve opinion on that." Luna removed the mirror and shook her head regretfully. "I shouldn't have asked for a mirror. I look rather worse for wear."

Draco looked down at Luna's dry lips with a frown. He grabbed a small glass bottle on the small nightstand and handed it to her. "Try this. Dr. Remus Lupin left this for bruises, dry skin, and scratches."

"I can spend a barrel of this salve," she said as she struggled with the sealed cap.

Draco takes the bottle back, opens it for her. Instead of returning to her, he took her hand and his eyes wandered on her body. "The shaking is better than last night," he said softly.

Luna's face flushed and she nodded, looking embarrassed at the situation. "True, but it seems I still can't feel warm." Luna rubbed her dry palms together. "I was wondering... if it wouldn't be too great an imposition-"

"A hot bath?"

"Oh yes." The throb of anticipation in her voice made him smile.

"It can be arranged. But you have to move carefully, and let the servants help you, or me, if you'd rather be."

Luna stared at him with her mouth open at the idea. "I-I wouldn't care to put to such trouble-" she stammered.

"Not trouble at all," Draco said lightly, just lightning in his gray eyes that show that he just teases her.

Before she could suppress it, an image appeared in her mind, of herself soaking in a steaming tub while he bathed her naked body.

"What a blush," Draco observed with a sudden smile. "If that doesn't warm you up, nothing will." Draco poked the fennel-flavored salve and brought it to Luna's lips. "Don't move."

Luna obeyed, her eyes fixed on Draco's face while gently rubbing the balm on her lips. The sore, dry surface absorbed the preparation at once; Draco dipped his finger into the bottle again. The room was utterly quite except for the sound of Luna's deep, trembling breath.

There was a tugging sensation in Draco's chest that bothered him profoundly. He wants to kiss her, hug her, and comfort her as if she were a lost child. He would never guessed that Luna Lovegood could be so endearing and vulnerable. Damn her, if somehow this is just acting. Draco himself would strangle her.

Obviously, she had already driven some other poor bastard to it already.

Draco paused at the thought, and grimly warned himself not to be affected by her. Enjoy the woman, take whatever he wants... but not even a minute he will allow himself to care for her. He doesn't need that much trouble. Draco gives more salve on his finger, until the cold scent of anise spiced the air. With a touch as light as possible, he spread the salve over the bruised, swollen neck. Luna was very still beneath his touch, her eyes focused on his hard face.

"We knew each other before last night, didn't we?" She asked in a low voice.

Draco lowered his gaze, and pulled his face away before answering. "You can say that."

Another soft pass on his finger over her skin, rubbing the salve deeper into her bruises.

Luna is mired in confusion trying to analyze the sensations of his touch, the familiar and comfortable feelings she finds in his presence. Nothing in the world seemed familiar to her, not even her own face... but somehow Draco made her comfortable and at ease. She wouldn't feel that way if she was accompanied by a stranger, wouldn't she?

"How well do we know each other?" She asked nervously.

"We'll talk about it later." What exactly will he tell her, and how he should explain the situation? He'll think about it later. Meanwhile Luna will rest and heal herself, and she will be under his protection. Draco reached into his waistcoat and grabbed his pocket watch. The clock showed his delay and made him sigh in annoyance. "I have to go to Auror office," he said. "I'll go to your house today and get some clothes for you."

Luna tried to smile, but her blue eyes looked pleading. "Do I have family or friends to contact?"

"I don't know about your family," Draco admitted. "I'll find out as best I can. And yes, you have friends... but now is not the time to visit. You need to rest." Without being able to resist the temptation, Draco stretched out his hand and down her temple with his index finger. "Don't worry, sweet pea," he murmured.

Luna leaned back on her pillow, her eyelids getting heavy from exhaustion. "So many questions," she sighed.

"Soon you will get the answer you want." Draco paused, and his tone changed slightly as he added, "Although you will not like some of it."

Luna looked at him earnestly, her hands crawling toward her neck, sweeping against the bruises that graced her neck. "What happened to me last night?"

"I meant to find out," Draco replied gravely.

* * *

The street shaped like a bow was built in the mid-1600s. There had been a few famous Aurors in the last century. But after the turn of the century, there was only one name associated with Auror that truly mattered... Kingsley Shacklebolt.

It seemed at times that the attention of the entire world was focused on the narrow, four-story building and its famous inhabitant. Kingsley directed his half dozen Aurors and eighty other assorted officers like master conductor. The Aurors had gained worldwide fame as they suppressed riots, solved crimes, and protected members of the royal family.

Draco climbed three front steps and gave a vigorous knock at the door. The door was opened by the housekeeper, Mrs. Dobson, a fat, motherly woman with a head of bobbing silver curls. "You without a hat again Mr. Malfoy... You'll catch your death one of these day, with a wind blowing from the north like this."

"I can't wear a hat, Mrs. Dobson," Draco said as he let go and handed over his coat. "I'm tall enough as it is." The high-fashioned hat that is currently becoming a trend makes him look silly, adding an unnecessary few inches to his towering body makes him look... eccentric.

"Well, not wearing a hat hardly fools anyone into thinking you're short," she said.

Draco just grinned. "Where's Kingsley?" Draco asked, Mrs. Dobson pointed to his office.

As he walked through the narrow corridor that led to Kingsley's private office, Draco almost collided with two other Aurors, Marcus Flint and Theodore Nott. Flint is older than him, while Nott is the same age as him. "Going to protect a few noble butts again," Flint said with a cheerful grin, while Nott told him that he was given a more lucrative task by keeping the Bank of England, a quarterly dividends were being paid.

"And what are you doing this morning?" Nott asked to Draco. Then his face changed with humor. "No, don't tell me... another bank robbery or a burglary on the west that you'll charge a fortune to solve."

Draco responded with a smirk. He has received a lot of banter from his colleagues about his great commission. He patiently says that in the last year he captured more criminals than the five Aurors put together. "I only take what they're willing to pay," he said lightly.

"The only reason the upper class demands your service is because you're a bloody swell," Flint chuckled. "Just yesterday a _lady_ said to me, 'Of all the Auror only Mr. Malfoy looks the way one ought to look'," he mimicked a woman's voice then snorted. "As if a man's appearance has a damned thing to do with how he does the job!"

"I'ma swell?" Said Draco disbelievingly, glancing at his own conservative attire, and then Flint's dandified appearance... the carefully arranged 'windswipt' style of his hair, the gold pin in an elaborate cravat, the tiny silk flower and fleurs-de-lis embroidered over his waistcoat. Not to mention the wide-brimmed, cream-colored hat worn carefully angled over one eye.

"I have to dress this way at court," Flint defended himself as he realized that Draco was judging his appearance.

With a chuckle Nott took Flint away before the debate broke out.

"Wait," said Flint, an interest in his voice. "Malfoy, I heard you were sent out last night to investigate the floating corpse found on the Thames."

"Correct."

Flint looked impatient with his tenderness. "Talkative as a clam, aren't you? Well, what can you tell us about it? Was the victim male or female?"

"What does it matter to you?" Draco asked, confused by his interest in the case.

"Are you going to take the case?" Flint insisted.

"Probably."

"I'll take the case if you like," Flint offered. "God knows you haven't much interest in investigating a dead woman. I heard bloats aren't paying much these days."

Nott chuckled at his crummy joke.

Draco looked at Flint with new vigilance. "Why do you think it's a woman?" He asked casually.

Flint blinked, paused before answering. "Merely a guess, lad. Am I right?"

Draco giving him a last questioning glance, he refused comment and entered Kingsley's office.


	5. The future Earl of Norbury

_Forgive for grammatical errors and spelling mistakes._

 ** _Disclaimer_** _– I own nothing. The characters belong to J.K Rowling, the plot belong to Lisa Kleypas in a novel with the same title._

* * *

Chapter 5

Kingsley stood with his back to the door, facing a large oak table set against the window. A giant brown-and-gray-striped cat occupies a corner of the table, glancing lazily at him.

Suddenly, Kingsley turned his head to him, and he looked at Draco with a friendly expression without a smile. "Good morning," he mumbled. "There's a jug of coffee on side table."

Draco never refused an offer of coffee. His passion for the bitter brew was rivaled only by Kingsley's. They both drank it black and scalding hot whenever possible. Pouring a liberal amount into an empty creamware mug, Draco sat in the nearby chair Kingsley indicated. Kingsley bent his attention to some documents on his desk once more, signing one with a deft flourish.

While he waited, Draco let his gaze roam over the comfortably familiar room. One wall was covered with maps of the city and surrounding counties, as well as floor plans of Westminster Hall, the Bank of England, and other buildings of significance. Another wall was covered with bookshelves, containing enough volumes to crush an elephant. The furniture consisted of a few heavy oak pieces, plain and functional. A library terrestrial globe was poised on a mahogany stand in the corner. Enough wall space had been allowed for a single painting, a landscape of North Wales in which a small stream rushed over craggy rocks, with dark trees and gray hills looming in the distance. The landscape was jarringly pristine in comparison with the bustling artifice of London.

Finally, Kingsley turned to him, his black eyebrows raised for information. "Well?" He mumbles. "What of the bloat you investigated last night? Is there a need for a coroner's inquest?"

"No bloat," Draco replied dryly. "The victim-a woman-was still alive. I brought her to home and sent for Dr. Remus Lupin."

"Very charitable of you."

Draco responded by shrugging his shoulders as if he didn't care. "I know the lady rather well. Her name is Luna Lovegood. "

The name caught Kingsley's interest. "The one who rebuffed you at the Wentworth ball?"

"I gave her the shove-along," Draco said with a quick flare of annoyance. "Somehow in the course of gossip, the story was twisted around."

Kingsley's black eyebrows rose and he just nodded. "Go on, and tell me about Miss Lovegood's condition."

Draco tapped his finger on the arm of the chair. "Attempted murder, no doubt about it. Heavy bruising and finger marks around her throat, not to mention a blow to the head. According to Remus, she'll be all right ... but there's one difficulty. She lost her memory. She can't provide a single detail of what happened, or even recall her own name."

"Did the doctor say when or if her memory might return?"

Draco shook his head. "There is no way to find out. Until the investigation finds some evidence to light-or she regains her memory-it's safer if everyone thinks she's dead."

Kingsley's dark eyes narrowed in interest. "Should I assign one of the Aurors to investigate, or will you take the case?"

"I want it." Draco finished the last drop of his coffee and placed the cup on the coffee table. "I'm going to begin by questioning her former protector, Lord Gerard. It seems likely that he or some jealous lover may have tried to strangle her. The Devil knows there's probably a long list of them."

Kingsley's mouth twitched with humor. "I'll send a man to question the waterman who found her, as well as the others who were ferrying passengers near Waterloo Bridge last evening. Perhaps one of them may have seen or heard something useful. Let me know how your investigation proceeds. In the meantime, where will Miss Lovegood reside?"

Draco studied the cup he had placed on the table thoroughly. He made his tone as matter-of-fact as possible. "With me."

"Surely she has friends or relatives who will take her in."

"She'll be safest under my protection."

Draco met Kingsley's wintry, piercing gaze without flinching. Kingsley had always declined to comment on his Auror's personal lives, so long as they performed their jobs well. However, Kingsley had a soft spot in his heart for women and children, and would do everything in his considerable power to prevent mistreatment of them.

Kingsley paused long enough to say something. "I believe I know you, Malfoy...well enough to be certain that you wouldn't take advantage of this woman, no matter what your personal grievances."

Draco responded coolly. "I would never force myself on an unwilling woman."

"I wasn't referring to 'force'," Kingsley said softly. "I was referring to manipulation... opportunism... seduction."

Draco was tempted to tell Kingsley to take care of his own damned business, but Draco stood up and straightened his trouser. "I don't need a lecture," he growled. "I won't harm Miss Lovegood in any way. You have my word on that. Bear in mind, however, that she is hardly an innocent. She's a courtesan. Manipulation and seduction are tools of the trade. Her memory loss doesn't change the fact of what she is."

Kingsley nodded calmly and looked thoughtfully at Draco. "Is Miss Lovegood willing to accept this arrangement?"

"If she doesn't like it, she's free to go elsewhere."

"Make certain she understands that."

Holding a few remarks, Draco nodded approvingly. "Anything else?" he inquired in a tone so bland as to be mocking.

"Perhaps you would care to explain why you wish to harbor Miss Lovegood under your own roof, after all your avowed dislike of her."

"I never said I disliked her," Draco countered.

"Come on," Kingsley said, sounding amused. "You made no secret of your resentment, after you'd been run through the rumor mill because of her."

"Call this my opportunity to make amends. Besides, it's my duty."

"Regardless of the lady's character-or lack thereof -I would prefer that you keep your hands off her until she recovers her memory and the investigation is concluded."

Draco felt an almost unbearable aggravation growing on his chest. "Don't I always do as you ask?"

Kingsley sighed loudly before falling on the armchair. "I wish to hell you would," he muttered, waving his hands briefly, telling Draco to leave.

"Good-bye, Chopper," Draco said lightly, but the cat turned his head disdainfully and made Draco even more annoyed.

Park Lane, the centerpiece of the prestigious area of Mayfair, was London's most desirable address. Suffused with an air of wealth and authority, the street was fronted with imposing columned mansions designed on a huge scale. The homes were meant to convince passersby that their inhabitants were superior to ordinary humans.

Draco had seen too much of the aristocracy's intimate personal lives to be awed by the grandeur of Park Lane. The nobility had as many flaws and foibles as average men... perhaps more. The only difference between an aristocrat and a commoner was that the former was far more resourceful at covering up his wrongdoings. And sometimes the nobility actually believed they were above the laws ordinary men were bound by. It was this kind of man that Draco most enjoyed bringing to justice.

The name of Luna's most recent protector was William Henry Ellyot, Lord Gerard. As the future Earl of Norbury, his chief occupation was waiting for his father to die so that he could inherit a revered title and a considerable fortune. Unfortunately for Gerard, his father was in excellent health and would likely retain the earldom for many years to come. In the meantime, Gerard searched for ways to amuse himself, indulging his rampant tastes for women, drinking, gambling, and sporting. His 'arrangement' with Luna Lovegood had made him the envy of many other men. She had been a lovely and highly visible trophy.

Draco mounted the steps of the classically styled manor with its columned pediment and statue-filled niches. A few strong raps on the door with his gloved fist, and one of the double portals was opened to reveal a butler's dour face.

"Your business, sir?" the butler inquired.

"Inform Lord Gerard that Mr. Malfoy is here to see him."

Draco noticed that his facial expression changed instantaneously, and anxiety was detected very clearly in his voice. "Sir, I regret to inform you that Lord Gerard is not at home. If you will leave your calling card, I will see that he receives it later."

Draco smiled wryly. 'Not at home' was a phrase used by butlers to convey that a particular lord or lady might very well in the house, but unwilling to accept visitors. But if Draco wanted to question someone, social niceties were the last things to stand in his way.

"I don't leave the card," he said flatly. "Go tell your master that Mr. Malfoy is here. This is not a social call."

The butler's face didn't show any expression, but the smell of disapproval came from him. Without giving a response the butler left Draco at the door of the house. Draco stepped forward and pushed the heavy door open with his boot.

Not long after the butler appeared again, frowning arrogantly and annoyed he asked Draco to follow him.

Draco was shown into a large drawing room with walls covered in creamy white woodwork and octagonal panels of red damask. The ceiling was remarkable, inset with red and gold panels that spread outward from a central golden sun. Between a pair of diamond-paned windows, a series of medallion portraits displayed the fleshy, dignified faces of the past five Earls of Norbury.

"Care for a drink, Malfoy?"

Lord Gerard stepped inside, in a embroidered green velvet dressing gown. His uncombed hair sprung untidily around his heavy-cheeked face, and his skin was florid from strong drink. Holding a snifter of brandy in one hand, Gerard made his way to a massive wing chair with ball-and-claw feet, and lowered himself gingerly.

Gerard gestured with his bottle. "A damn fine Armagnac," he commented. "Shall you take some?"

"A bit early in the day for me," Draco shook his head faintly.

"I can think of no better way to begin the day." Gerard drank deeply of the bloodred liquid.

Draco kept his expression friendly, but something dark and horrible grew inside him as he watched Gerard. The image of Luna with this man, serving him, satisfying him, flashed before Draco in disquieting flash. She had been Gerard's whore, and would undoubtedly sell herself to the next man who could meet her price. Jealous and repulsed, Draco sat in the chair adjacent to Gerard's.

"Thank you for agreeing to talk with me," Draco murmured.

Gerard turned his attention away from the bottle long enough to show a sour smile. "As I understood it, I hadn't much choice."

"I don't expect this will take long," Draco said. "I only have a few questions for you."

"Are you conducting an investigation of some sort? What and whom does it concern?"

Draco leaned back, looking relaxed, not looking at Gerard's face. "I'd like to know your whereabouts last evening, around midnight."

"I was at my club, Craven's. I have several friends who will verify my presence there."

"When did you leave the club?"

"Four o'clock, perhaps five." Gerard's thick lips curved with a satisfied smile. "I had a run of luck at the hazard tables and then took a flier with one of the house wenches. An excellent evening all around."

Draco immediately turns to the next question. "What's your relationship with Miss Luna Lovegood?"

The name seemed to puncture Gerard's sense of well-being. The flush on his face deepened, and the dark, narrow eyes resembled chips of obsidian. He leaned forward, holding his snifter in both hands. "This is about Luna, then? What happened? Has she landed in some kind of trouble? Bloody Christ, I hope it's nasty and unholy expensive, whatever it is. Tell her that I won't lift a finger to help her, even if she comes crawling. I'd sooner kiss the pope's toe."

"Your relationship with her," Draco repeated quietly.

Gerard drained Armagnac in a disgusting voice and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his dressing gown. The liquor seemed to calm him, and his lips showed a sly smile. "I believe you already know that, Malfoy. You once displayed a bit of interest in her yourself, didn't you? And she wouldn't have you." He chortled, tickled by the notion, then sobered quickly. "That hellcat Luna. Two years I had with her. I paid her bills, gave her the town house, jewelry, a carriage, horses, anything she desired. All for the exclusive right to bed her, at least, it was supposed to be exclusive. I didn't delude myself into thinking she was faithful to me, however. Luna isn't capable of fidelity."

"Is that why your arrangement ended? Because she was unfaithful?"

"No." Gerard looked at his empty glass gloomily. "Before I divulge anything further, you can explain something...Why the hell are we talking about Luna? Has something happened to her?"

"You can answer my question here or in the Auror office," Draco said coldly. "You wouldn't be the first peer I've inquisitioned in the strong room."

Gerard rose from his chair. "You dare to threaten me... By God, someone ought to take you down a few buttons!"

Draco stood up, defeating Gerard high. "You're welcome to try," he said softly. He rarely used his size to bully others, preferring to rely on his wits.

Gerard's face turned anxious as he stared at Draco, who stood up in front of him. He straightened his hair with a quick and nervous move. "No, I shan't take you on," he mumbled. "I wouldn't lower myself to trade blows with a common bruiser."

Draco gestured to the armchair with respect. "Then have a sit, My Lord."

A new thought seems to have crossed Gerard's mind. "Good God," he said heavily. "Luna's dead, isn't she? That's what this is about."

Draco sat down and leaned forward, supporting both elbows on his knees. He stared at his grim red face in earnest. "Why do you say that?"

Gerard spoke as if in a daze. "She's gone missing for the past month, ever since she broke off our arrangement. Her servants were dismissed and the town house was closed. I went to balls Luna was supposed to have attended, a soiree, a musical evening... No one knew where she was, or why she hadn't come. Everyone assumed she had secluded herself with some new protector. But Luna wouldn't have stayed away from London that long unless something was drastically wrong."

"Why do you say that?"

"Luna is easily bored. She has a constant need for stimulation and amusement. A quiet evening at home would drive her mad. She hates to be alone. She insists on going to some soiree or party every night of the week. I could never match her pace." Gerard gave a small, defeated laugh. "She stayed with me longer than with any of her other protectors-I've taken some measure of comfort in that."

"Does she have any enemies that you know of?"

"No one I would label that way... but there are many who dislike her."

"What was Miss Lovegood's financial situation at the time she parted from you?"

"Money pours through Luna's fingers like water. She didn't have sufficient funds to last long. She had to find a new paramour without delay."

"Any notion of whom the next candidate might have been?"

"No."

"What do you know of her family?"

"She has none that I am aware of. As you might guess, our conversations rarely turned in that direction." Gerard sighed and nibbled at a rough spot on one of his manicured cuticles. "Will this take much longer, Malfoy? I have a thirst for more Armagnac."

"What direction did your conversations turn to?" Draco asked. "Does Miss Lovegood have any particular hobbies or pursuits? Any new interests she has developed of late?"

"None that exist outside of bed. Why, I doubt she's ever even read a book."

"Any new acquaintances you were aware of? Male in particular?"

Gerard rolled his eyes. "God Himself couldn't account for all of Luna's male acquaintances."

"Tell me about the day she broke off your arrangement. Did you argue?"

"Naturally. I had invested quite heavily in her, and I saw no reason things couldn't continue indefinitely. I've closed my eyes whenever she cared to have a dalliance. I became quite heated-I even threatened her-but she laughed in my face. I demanded to know the name of the man who would be my replacement, as I was certain that she wouldn't leave me without first securing another arrangement. She was quite smug, and would say nothing except that she expected soon to marry into a great fortune." He snorted with bitter amusement. "The idea! One doesn't marry soiled goods like Luna Lovegood, unless he wants to be the laughingstock of England. Of course, I would put nothing past her. I suppose it's possible she could have enticed some decrepit widower to make an offer for her."

"Were there witnesses to the argument?"

"Luna's servants were aware of it, I'm certain. No doubt I raised the roof a time or two."

"Did you strike her?"

"Never," Gerard said, looking offended. "I'll admit, I was tempted to choke the life out of her. But I would never do harm to a woman. And in spite of my anger, I would have taken Luna back if she had desired it, my pride be damned."

Draco frowned at his statement. In his opinion, no woman is worth the sacrifice of a man's pride, no matter how attractive she might have been. There was always another pretty face, another well-shaped body, another display of feminine charms that would soon blot out the memories.

"I can see what you're thinking," Gerard said. "But there's something you don't understand...Luna is one of a kind. The smell, the taste, the feel of her...No one could compare. There was nothing she wouldn't do in bed. Have you ever slept with a woman who has no shame? If I could have just one more night with her... even one hour..." He shook his head with a mumbled curse.

"All right, My Lord," Draco said tersely. "We're finished for now. As my investigation proceeds, I may have more questions for you." He stood and headed for the door, but paused as he heard Gerard's pleading voice.

"Malfoy, you must tell me...What has happened to her?"

Draco turned to glance at him curiously. "If she were dead," he said slowly, "would you mourn her?" He waited a long time for the other man to reply, but Gerard apparently found it difficult to answer.

* * *

 _ **A/N** – I know, Luna seems extremely OOC from Gerard's point of view. But if you ever read Lisa Kleypas' novel, you must already know why. But if you haven't, you will know it soon._


	6. The Journal

**_Disclaimer_** _– I own nothing! The characters belong to J.K Rowling, and the plot belongs to Lisa Kleypas in a novel with the same title._

* * *

Chapter 6

Draco smiled cynically. Gerard was like a child deprived of his favorite toy-he would miss the sexual pleasure Luna had given him, but he felt no genuine caring or concern. Some courtesans and their protectors genuinely loved each other, had relationships that lasted for decades. Draco knew more than one man who had escaped the bitter disappointment of his arranged marriage by taking a mistress who would bear him children and serve him as the loving companion his wife should have been. For Luna, however, the role of courtesan was played purely for reasons of business and profit.

"Do you have a set of keys to her town house?" Draco asked him.

The question clearly nonplussed him. "I suppose I might. Do you intend to search her possessions? What do you expect to find?"

"Where Miss Lovegood is concerned, I'm learning not to expect anything," Draco replied. The more he discovered about Luna and her sordid past, the darker his mood became.

* * *

Draco deftly unlocked the bronzed door of Luna's town house, one of many located behind the palace front of east Grosvenor Square. The prestigious address, with its spectacular row of columns and arched doorways, must have cost a pretty penny. A further testament to Luna's skill at her profession, he thought darkly. The interior was dim and quiet, with a faint mustiness in the air from being closed up for weeks. The house was elegant and decidedly feminine, with abundant frescoes of pastel flowers, walls covered in French paper, delicate furniture with spindly legs, and large framed looking glasses over every fireplace.

He ascended the stairs, noting the costly twisted balusters with carved tread ends, and the lamps housed in crystal cases. Upstairs, the air seemed to hold a hint of stale perfume. He followed the scent to the main bedroom, lit more lamps, and surveyed his surroundings intently.

The walls were covered in emerald-green silk, a jewel tone that was echoed in the rich Brussels floral-patterned carpet underfoot. Although the current fashion for ladies' bedrooms was to half conceal the bed in an alcove, Luna had made hers the central attraction, placing it on a carpeted platform to increase its visibility. What drew Draco's attention most strongly, however, was a portrait of Luna hung on the wall facing the bed. She had been painted in the nude, half turned away from the viewer to expose her pale back and buttocks. She glanced artfully over her shoulder, her torso angled to reveal the profile of one round, lovely breast.

The artist had idealized Luna, making her form a little fleshier than in reality, the legs and waist slightly elongated. Had the artist bedded Luna during one of the many sittings it had taken to paint her? It seemed likely. Nothing but lovemaking could have given her face that flushed, replete look, the mouth soft with satisfaction, the blue eyes heavy-lidded and catlike.

Staring at the painting, Draco experienced what was fast becoming a familiar reaction to Luna... a mingling of fire and ice... a flare of intense desire balanced by cold deliberation. He wanted her, and more than that, he wanted to humble and chasten her. He was going to use her, the way she had used so many men. It was time for Luna Lovegood to receive her reckoning.

He wandered to a Louis XV dressing table with an inlaid tulipwood top, and picked up a large crystal flacon of perfume. The scent was heavy with roses and tempered by the crispness of sandalwood.

Setting aside the perfume, Draco opened the shallow drawers of the dressing table, finding a jumble of brushes, jars filled with pastel-colored creams, hair ornaments of tortoiseshell, ivory, and silver. Beneath the clutter, there was a small journal with dark blue cover.

Draco extricated the volume and leafed through it quickly, finding lists of gentlemen's names, detailed descriptions of sexual activities, times and dates of romantic assignations. It would serve as an excellent tool for blackmail. He recognized some of the names in the book, a few belonging to gentlemen who prided themselves on their solid marriages and sterling reputations. None of them would care to have his infidelities exposed, and would doubtless pay dearly to ensure Luna's silence. Or perhaps even resort to murder to make her silence permanent.

"What a busy girl you've been," Draco muttered, slipping the journal into his pocket. He closed the drawer with unnecessary force.

His jaw was clenched as he searched the room methodically, locating a leather valise. He stuffed the first decent clothes he could find into the valise... a few richly colored gowns, linen undergarments, stockings and shoes, and a box containing lace handkerchiefs and three pairs of cream-colored gloves. With the valise filled to overflowing, he picked up the lamp and left the bedroom. Tomorrow he would return to search the terrace in earnest, but for now he wanted to pay a visit to his new guest and see how she was faring.

Hiring a hackney to convey him to King Street, Draco returned to his house. Mrs. Buttons greeted him at the door, shivering a little as a blast of wintry wind slipped inside the house. She took his coat and folded it over her arm. "Good afternoon, Sir. Will you be taking a midday meal today?"

"I'm not hungry," he replied, glancing in the direction of the staircase. "How is she?"

The housekeeper replied calmly. "Very well, Sir. Miss Lovegood had a nice soak in the bath, and one of the maids-Mary-helped me to wash her hair. I believe her condition is much improved."

"Good." He studied the housekeeper closely, having the feeling there was more she could tell him. "You strike me as an apt judge of character, Mrs. Buttons."

She took visible pride at the compliment. "I believe I might be, Sir."

"Tell me, then... what do you think of Miss Lovegood?"

Mrs. Buttons seemed eager to answer the question. She lowered her voice to keep from being overheard by passing servants. "Her behavior has been rather perplexing, Sir. After I brought Miss Lovegood a plate of toast this morning, and left to oversee the preparation of her bath, she arose by herself and tidied the room. She even made the bed, despite the pain it must have caused her. I can't think why she would have gone to such effort, especially considering her state of health. And then in the bathing room, she tried to lift one of the buckets the maid had brought, to help fill her own bath. We took it from her immediately, of course, but she apologized for the extra work we had done on her behalf. She seems anxious not to cause trouble for anyone and grateful for any assistance we render, as if she is unused to having anyone serve her."

"I see." Draco's face was wiped clean of expression, as it always was when he puzzled over contradictory facts.

Mrs. Buttons warmed to the subject. "She seems to be one of the most considerate and gentle-spirited young women I have ever encountered. With all due respect, Sir, I can scarcely believe that what you told me about her last evening is true."

"It's true," Draco said dryly.

Could it be that Luna's memory loss had altered her character as well? Had she forgotten how to behave with her usual smug superiority... or was she merely playing some game with them all? Impatiently Draco handed the valise to Mrs. Buttons. "Have one of the maids put Miss Lovegood's clothes away."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy." The housekeeper set the valise on the floor and regarded him with calm brown eyes. "Sir, Mary offered her best night rail for Miss Lovegood's use, as we had nothing else to clothe her in."

"Thank you. I consider any kindness done for Miss Lovegood as a direct favor to me. Tell Mary to have a new gown and matching pelisse made for herself, and charge it to the household account. A nice gown-she needn't skimp on the trimmings."

Mrs. Buttons turned an approving smile on him. "You're a kind master, if I may say so."

He responded with a scowl. "I'm a reprobate, and we both know it."

"Yes, Sir," the housekeeper replied demurely.

Draco headed for the stairs. Some unidentifiable feeling knotted and tightened inside him. Luna Lovegood playing the sweet and innocent girl... he wouldn't tolerate it. In the space of a few minutes, he was going to expose her for the fraud she was. If she didn't remember that she was an unprincipled whore, he would damn well remind her. He would reveal every cunning, shameless facet of her dissolute character, and let her ponder that for a while. Then let her try to play the innocent.

Reaching his bedroom, he opened the door without knocking, halfway expecting to find Luna laughing privately about how she was deceiving everyone with her pretense of virtue. He entered the room... and stopped dead in his tracks. She was sitting in an armchair by the grate, her small bare feet drawn up and to the side, an open book in her lap. Golden shards of firelight played over her vulnerable face as she glanced up at him. She was dressed in a high-necked white nightgown that was a little too big for her, with a blue cashmere lap robe draped over her waist and thighs.

After setting the book on the floor, she pulled the lap robe up to her chest. The tension inside Draco rose to an excruciating pitch. She had the face of an angel. The freshly washed locks flowed around her in a waist-length curtain.

Luna had a face and form that belonged in a Renaissance painting, except that the reality of her was more delicate and fresh than any painted image could convey. Now that her eyes were no longer swollen, the pure blue intensity of her gaze shone full and direct on him. Her mouth, tender and rose-tinted, was a marvel of nature.

Something was wrong with his breathing. His lungs weren't working properly, his heartbeat was too fast, and he clenched his teeth. If he weren't a civilized man, if he didn't pride himself on his renowned self-possession, he would take her here, now, with no regard for the consequences. He wanted her that badly.

Seeming not to understand his silent, ferocious struggle, Luna gave him a hesitant smile of welcome. He almost hated her for that smile, so soft and warm that it pulled at something deep in his chest.

He returned the smile with a confident one of his own. "Good afternoon, Miss Lovegood. It's time for us to talk."

Luna kept the lap robe pulled high around body as she stared at the man before her. Emotions tumbled inside her, not the least of which was curiosity. The servants had told her Draco Malfoy is an Auror, the most famous of the pack. The most fearless man in England, one of them had added, and now Luna understood why.

He was a giant. Somehow in the fear and discomfort of the last twenty-four hours, she hadn't really noticed that the gruff, deep voice and brooding grey eyes belonged to a man who was so... well, large. Not merely tall, but large in every way. Now that she had recovered somewhat from her dunking in the Thames, she was able to take a good, clear look at him. His shoulders were as broad, and his rangy body was impressively developed, with long muscled thighs, and upper arms that bulged against the constraints of his coat sleeves.

He's very handsome man with pointed chin. Her gaze fell to his hands, and she felt a wash of fire cover her face as she remembered the gentle touch of them.

"Yes, I would like to talk," she murmured.

Draco picked up a heavy armchair and moved it close to hers, hefting its weight with astonishing ease. Watching him, Luna wondered how it might feel to possess such boundless strength. The sheer physical presence of him, his raw masculinity and vitality, seemed to fill the room. He sat and studied her with those perceptive grey eyes... long-lashed eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said, helpless to look away from those riveting eyes, "I can never thank you enough for all you done... your kindness and generosity, and..." She felt the color on her face condense into two bright spots on her cheeks. "I owe you my life."

"I didn't pull you from the river," Draco said coldly, not seeming particularly pleased by her gratitude. "The waterman did."

Luna was unable to let the matter drop without making certain he understood how she felt. "Even then, I would have died. I remember lying on the steps, and I was so cold and wretched that I didn't particularly care if I lived or not. And then you came."

"Do you remember anything else? Anything about yourself or your past? Do you have impressions of struggling with someone, or arguing-"

"No." Both of her hands went up to her throat, investigating the soreness, and she stared at him wonderingly. "Mr. Malfoy, who did this to me?"

"I don't know yet. It would be a damned sight more convenient if you hadn't lost your memory."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged lightly. "It's hardly your fault."

Where was the tender stranger who had taken care of her last night and this morning? She found it hard to believe that this was the man who had held and comforted her, rubbed salve on her bruises, and tucked her in bed as a parent would a beloved child. Now he seemed forbidding and utterly unapproachable. He was angry with her but she didn't know why. The realization made her feel more lost and confused than before, if that was possible. He was all she had-she couldn't bear for him to be cold to her.

"You're displeased," she said. "What has happened? Have I done something wrong?"

The questions seemed to soften him a little. Although he didn't quite meet her eyes, he exhaled deeply, as if releasing some unpleasant pent-up emotion. "No," he muttered with a quick shake of his head. "It's nothing."

Perhaps he had learned something about her that he didn't like, Luna thought sadly, and anxiety made her entire body tauten until all her muscles quivered.

"I'm frightened," she said, and brought her clenched hands down to her lap. "I keep trying to remember something, anything about myself. Nothing is familiar. Nothing makes sense. And knowing that someone hates me enough to want me dead-"

"For all he knows, you are dead."

"He?"

"No woman could have possessed the strength to strangle you with her bare hands. Moreover, your personal history includes very few women. The great majority of your associates have been men."

"Oh." Why wouldn't he just tell her what needed to be said, instead of making her ask him questions? It was a form of torture, having to stare at his stony face and wonder what secrets of her past had brought her to this incredible situation. "You said... I might not like some of the things you would tell me about myself," she prompted unsteadily.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he extracted a small journal with the dark blue cover. "Have a look at this," he said curtly, throw it at her lap.

"What is it?" she asked warily.

He didn't reply, only stared at her with a restless gaze that conveyed his impatience.

Carefully she opened the journal, discovering page after page of neat feminine script. There were lists, names, dates... It took a half minute of reading before she encountered a passage so explicit that she snapped the journal shut with a mortified gasp. Her shocked gaze lifted to his. "Why in heaven's name would you show me such a thing?" She tried to hand the journal back, but he didn't move to take it. Casting the object to the floor, she regarded it as if it were a coiled snake. "Whom does it belong to, and how does it pertain to me?"

"It's yours."

"Mine?" An icy feeling crept over her, and she pulled the length of cashmere more closely around herself. "You're mistaken, Mr. Malfoy." Her voice was clipped and cool with outrage. "I didn't write those things. I couldn't have."


	7. Facing the Truth

**_Disclaimer_** _– I own nothing! The characters belong to J.K Rowling and Lisa Kleypas. The plot belongs to Lisa Kleypas in a novel with the same title._

* * *

Chapter 7

"How do you know that?"

"Because I couldn't!" Startled and offended, she gave him a look of rebuke.

When he spoke, his voice was flat and quiet. "You're a courtesan, Luna, the most notorious one in London. You've garnered a fortune from your talent."

She felt her face turn stark white. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest. "It isn't true," she cried. "The journal must belong to someone else."

"I found it in your terrace house, in your bedroom."

"Why would I... that is, why would any woman write such things?"

"A tool for blackmail," he suggested gently. "Or perhaps it was just the only way you could keep track."

Luna left her chair as if she had been jolted out of it, letting the cashmere lap robe drop to the floor. Wincing as pain shot through her bound ankle, she hobbled backward a few steps, needing to put some distance between them. "I didn't do any of the things in that journal!"

To her chagrin, Draco's gaze swept over her, and she realized that the firelight shone through the muslin, illuminating every detail of her slim body. Hastily she pulled handfuls of the loose gown in front of herself, clutching the folds to her midriff. "I'm not a prostitute", she said vehemently. "If I were, I'm certain I would know it in some part of myself, but I don't because it's not there. You're absolutely wrong about me. If this is an example of your investigative abilities, I am not impressed! Now... now go out and ask more questions and do what is necessary to find out who I really am."

Draco rose from his own chair to follow her. "I can't change the truth just because you don't like it."

"Not only do I not like it," Luna said, breathing hard, "I _reject_ it entirely. You are wrong, do you understand?" To her humiliation, she wobbled off balance, her weak ankle refusing to support her.

"Would you like me to parade you in front of witnesses who will swear on the Bible that you are Luna Lovegood?" Draco asked harshly, glared in disgust at her. "Would you like to go to your house and see the nude painting of yourself on the bedroom wall? I brought back some of your clothes-would you care to try them on and see how they fit? I can dig up mountains of proof for you."

He caught her as she tried to stumble away from him, his arms locked firmly behind her back.

Luna whimpered as he brought her against his solid and hard body. She wedged her arms between them, her head falling back as she stared into the face so high above hers. His ribs were as sturdy as frigate timbers beneath her cold hands. He imprisoned her between his powerful thighs, holding her steady.

"Even if I am Luna Lovegood," she said stubbornly, "you can't prove that I did all the things in that book. They are made-up stories."

"It's all true, Luna. You sell your body for money." He didn't seem any more pleased about the idea than she. "You go from one man to another, taking what you want from each of them."

"Oh, really? Then who, exactly, is supposed to be my latest protector? Where is he, and why haven't you sent for him?"

"Who do you think he is?" Malfoy asked softly.

The words sent Luna reeling. She was openmouthed, dazed, suddenly limp in his grasp. "No."

"We've been lovers ever since you left Lord Gerard. I've visited you in your town house on several occasions. We've kept things discreet, but we were on the verge of drawing up a proper contract." Draco told the lies without a shred of guilt. His lies would hardly hurt her, after the sordid life she had led, and it served his purpose. He wanted her, and this was the most expedient way to have her.

"Then you and I are..." She choked on the words.

"Yes."

"You're lying!" Luna strained against him, pushing, twisting, but his arms were like steel bands around her. Soon she was exhausted by the fruitless struggle. She couldn't help but be aware that her movements had aroused him. The hard protrusion of his masculinity pressed high against her stomach, branding her with its aggressive heat. How in God's name could she have been intimate with this man and not remember?

Trembling, she collapsed against him, leaning full into the long, muscled length of him. She was too exhausted to move. A pleasant mixture of linen and spicy shaving soap clung to him, and she breathed deeply of the fragrance. Her head fell to his chest, her ear pressed to the resounding beat of his heart. "You're wrong," she said, too bewildered to cry. "I'm not that kind of woman. I just can't be."

He didn't reply, and she realized that he was so convinced on the matter that it didn't merit arguing. A flicker of fury intruded on her confusion. Very well. She wouldn't further exhaust herself by denying the accusation... time would certainly prove him wrong.

"What do you want from me now?" She asked in a thick voice. A shiver chased down her body as she felt his hand move over her back, the heat of his palm sinking through the muslin.

"I'm going to keep you here," he replied, "for your protection and my convenience."

His convenience? That could only mean that he intended to continue their previous arrangement, regardless of her memory loss. She glanced over her shoulder at the oversized bed that had seemed such a haven until now. If he planned to take her tonight, she wouldn't be able to stand it. She would flee the house and run screaming through the streets in her nightgown. "I can't oblige you tonight, if that's what you're planning," she said rebelliously, "and not tomorrow night, either. And not-"

"Hush." For the first time a note of amusement entered his voice. "I'm not such a bastard that I would inflict myself on you while you're ill. We'll wait until you're well enough."

"I won't want to ever again! I'm not a prostitute."

"You'll want to. It's in your nature, Luna. You can't change what you are."

His matter-of-fact statements infuriated her. "I won't want any man from now on, especially not you."

Her defiance seemed to trigger something inside him, unleashing a grim determination to prove something to her... and to himself. Swiftly he pulled her into his arms, before she had time to think or react. He carried her to the bed and deposited her on the neatly folded-back covers. His dark face obliterated the glow of the fire as he leaned over her.

"No," Luna gasped.

There was a cruel edge to his mouth, but when he fitted his lips over hers, the kiss was soft, slow, utterly consuming. He placed his hands flat on the mattress on either side of her head, not touching her with any part of his body except his mouth. Had she wanted, she could have rolled away from him easily. But she stayed beneath him, transfixed by the sweet, hot flowering of sensation that spread rapidly and made the downy hairs all over her body rise. She lifted her hands to his face in a halfhearted gesture to push him away, but he angled his head and kissed her harder, and any thought of resisting him disappeared.

His tongue ventured inside her mouth, teasing, stroking. He tasted of coffee, and some pleasant masculine essence that lured her own tongue to respond timidly. The feathery touch seemed to excite him. Breathing deeply, he twisted his mouth over hers in long, searching kisses, each one more tender and intimate than the last. Luna relaxed willingly beneath him while a heavy, delicious ache formed in her breasts and low in her stomach and between her thighs. Her dazed mind no longer comprehended what was happening, or even cared. All that existed was sensation, every part of her focused on the consuming heat of his mouth.

With a suddenness that stunned her, Draco tore his lips away and pinned her with a simmering gaze and smirk on his face. "You see?" He said hoarsely. "Now tell me what kind of woman you are."

It took a moment for Luna to understand what he had said. Ashamed and furious, she rolled to her side. "Go away," she said coldly, pressing her hand over her exposed ear, blocking out any words he might utter. "Leave me alone."

He obliged at once, leaving her curled on the bed in a silent huddle.

Barely aware of where he was going, Draco made his way downstairs, his mind overtaken by questions, sensations. "Luna," he muttered more than once, the name alternately a curse and a prayer.

He found himself in the library, a haven of leather and oak, fitted with comfortably worn chairs and specially designed bookcases. The cases were fronted with beveled glass, and brass grillwork on the bottom shelves. He collected books obsessively. The stacks of newspapers piled on desks and tables often moved Mrs. Buttons to complain that the house was the greatest fire hazard in London.

Draco never sat for a quiet moment without a book or paper close at hand. When he wasn't working or sleeping, he read, anything to keep himself from thinking about the past. On the nights when regrets lingered in his head like ghosts, driving out all possibility of sleep, he came to the library and drank brandy and read until the words blurred before his eyes.

Prowling past the shelves of leather-bound talismans, Draco sought something to divert his attention. His fingers trailed lightly over the cool, shining glass doors, opened one, brushed over a row of books. But for once, the touch of leather repelled him... His hand ached for soft female skin, for silken hair, for round breasts and hips...

He caught sight of his reflection in the glass, his face gloomy and miserable.

Turning away with a groan, Draco went to the sideboard fitted between a pair of small matching cupboards. One of the cupboards was used as a cellaret for wines. He rummaged in the cabinet until his hand closed around the flattened lozenge shaped body of a brandy bottle, sloshing with dark liquid. Uncorking it, he drank directly from the bottle, the fullness of expensive French brandy rolling down his throat. Waiting for familiar warmth to spread in his chest, he felt only emptiness.

His mind returned to the image of Luna, the sweetness of her mouth, the innocence of her response. As if she weren't used to kissing, as if she were an awkward but willing pupil in the hands of an experienced teacher. All an illusion, and lies. "Innocence," he muttered with an ugly laugh, and poured more brandy down his throat. Luna was prime quality goods to be sure, but she was a whore nonetheless. And he was a fool for feeling protective of her, wanting her, and worsts of all, liking her.

He sat in an armchair and braced his feet on the edge of his desk, and silently acknowledged the mortifying truth. If he didn't know who and what Luna was, he would be mad for her. What man wouldn't? She was lovely, intelligent, and seemingly vulnerable. Her response to the news that she was a courtesan had been a perfect blend of anger and bewilderment. The way an innocent woman would react. His instincts and his brain had rarely given him such opposing messages, and the few times they had, he had been inclined to trust his instincts, but not in this case. He knew all about Luna's unique brand of faux innocence. It didn't matter how she behaved at present, she would sooner or later revert to character.

Therefore, he couldn't let himself be taken in by her.

But hell and damnation... it wasn't going to be easy, he thought.

* * *

Luna curled up in one corner of the acre-wide bed, fuming and worrying until she finally drifted into a fog of oblivion. But there was no peace to be found in sleep, only a bizarre dream that became increasingly sinister.

She hurried through a shadowed street, pursued by faceless strangers. Occasionally she paused to laugh and taunt them, then turned and ran just before they reached her. Approaching a bridge, she climbed onto the embankment wall, surmounting a pier topped with a bronze statue of a river deity. The men below her clamored to reach her, climbing after her, but she laughed throatily and kicked them away. Suddenly, to her horror, the massive bronze statue beside her began to move. Huge metal arms wrapped around her, imprisoning her in a cold merciless embrace.

Crying out in terror, she fought the statue, but it clutched her, turned toward the river... and plunged into the black, bitterly cold depths. Its weight pulled her down quickly, the surface receding far above her. She screamed beneath the water, but no one could hear her, and the choking liquid filled her mouth and throat-

"Luna. Dammit, Luna, wake up!"

She started awake, still fighting the arms around her... then saw Malfoy's face above hers. He wore an anxious scowl as he hauled her into his lap, one hand smoothing the damp hair back from her face. His upper torso was covered only by a thin linen shirt, open at the neck to reveal the hollow at the base of his throat.

Disoriented, Luna fought to catch her breath. She glanced at their surroundings, realizing they were on the floor.

"You fell off the bed," Malfoy said.

"I-I had a nightmare."

"Tell me," he said softly. As she remained silent, he stroked the ruffled arc of her eyebrow with the pad of his thumb. The intimate gesture somehow moved her to speak when words would have failed. Luna gnawed her lower lip nervously. "I dreamed I was drowning. It was so real... I couldn't breathe."

A gentle, sandpapery sound came from his throat. He patted her back in a soothing rhythm, rocking her as if she were a child. The heat of his body permeated the layers of clothing between them, warming her. For a moment she was tempted to push him away, the memory of his distasteful accusations still fresh in her ears.

But she stayed motionless against him. Although he was hateful and arrogant, he was also large and safe. At the moment there was no more appealing place in the world than his arms, his embrace. A delicious scent clung to him, a blend of brandy and salt and linen... smells that reminded her of something... someone... whose comforting image was locked deep in her memory. A father or brother, perhaps? A lover she had held dear? She had no idea.


	8. Apology

**_Disclaimer_** _– I own nothing! The characters belong to J.K Rowling and Lisa Kleypas. The plot belong to Lisa Kleypas in a novel with the same title._

* * *

Chapter 6

Confused and frustrated, she chewed harder at her lip as she strained to remember.

"Don't do that," Malfoy said, touching her mouth with gentle fingers. "Try to relax. Would you like a drink?"

"I don't know."

He held her for a moment longer, cradling her in his lap, until the frantic jerking of her heart slowed to a normal pace. His hand slid over her leg and hip and settled at the curve of her waist, and in a despairing flash, Luna sensed that his touch was somehow familiar and natural. As if she belonged in his arms, against his body... as if they had indeed been lovers. She moved her face, blotting her tear-dampened cheek against his shirt, and she felt his mouth brush over her hair.

Carefully Malfoy lifted her from the floor and placed her on the bed, and busied himself with straightening the tangled mass of sheets and blankets. Going to the bedside table, he poured a small quantity of liquor into a verriere glass etched with leaves. "I had a feeling you might need some of this during the night," he said. "You'll have dreams about it from time to time. Occasionally one of them will be so damned vivid you'll wake with a scream in your throat. It happens after one comes close to dying."

He sounded quite knowledgeable on the subject, Luna thought, accepting the verriere. She sipped the rich, slightly fruity beverage. "Have you come close to death before?"

"Once or twice."

"What happened?" she asked.

"I never discuss my exploits." A self-mocking smile touched his lips, softening the angles of his face. "It's tempting for an Auror to develop a habit of boasting, and then we tend to spend all our time spinning elaborate tales... so it's better not to talk of work at all, or nothing gets done."

"I'll find out anyway," Luna said. She took a larger swallow of the brandy, the pleasant fire spreading through her veins and restoring her shattered nerves. "Mrs. Buttons told me there have been a few ha'penny novels published about your adventures."

"Trash only fit to use as kindling," he said with a snort. "You won't find those in my house."

"Yes, I will. Some of your servants collect them."

"The devil they do," he muttered, clearly surprised at the information. "Crackbrains. Don't believe a word any of them tells you."

"I've embarrassed you," she said with a trace of satisfaction, and buried a fleeting smile in the verriere glass.

"Whom have you been talking to? Mrs. Buttons? One of the maids? I'll have someone's head if they've been gossiping."

"The servants are all quite proud of you," Luna said, delighted at having found a way to needle him. "It seems you're a legend. Rescuing heiresses, tracking murderers, solving impossible cases-"

"Legend, my arse." Draco looked as though she had mocked him instead of complimenting his reputation. "Mostly I recover stolen property for banks. I have a great fondness for banks and the reward money they offer. Sir Kingsley and any of the Aurors can tell you there's a cash box where my heart should be."

"You're trying to tell me that you're not a hero," Luna said matter-of-factly.

"Based on your acquaintance with me during the last twenty-four hours, wouldn't you agree?"

She considered the question and answered thoughtfully. "Obviously you are not a perfect man-as if there could be such a thing-but you have done good for many people, sometimes at the risk of your own life. That makes you heroic, even if I don't approve of you."

"You don't approve of me," he repeated blankly.

"No. I think it very wrong of you to pay for the services of a woman like me."

The comment seemed to simultaneously amuse and puzzle him. "Why, Luna," he mocked, "you don't sound like yourself."

"Don't I?" She fiddled awkwardly with the edges of the bed linens. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to sound like, or what I should say. All I know is that the more you tell me about myself, the more I wonder why you or anyone else should desire my company. I'm not a very nice woman, am I?"

A stiff silence descended on them. Draco's stare was searching, critical, like that of a scientist examining the unexpected results of an experiment. Wordlessly he turned and headed toward the door, and Luna thought he was leaving. However, he picked up a tray that had been set on a side table, and returned to the bed with it.

"Your supper," he said, setting the tray on her lap, straightening a piece of silverware that had slid to the edge. "I was carrying this upstairs when I heard you fall."

"You were bringing a supper tray to me?" Luna asked, wondering why he hadn't had one of the servants do it.

Draco read the unspoken question in her expression. "I intended to offer it with an apology." His voice turned soft as he added, "My manner with you earlier this evening was uncalled-for." Luna was rather taken by his charming gruffness. Her instincts told her that he was sincere. Although he surely didn't respect or esteem her, he was willing to apologize when he believed himself to be in the wrong. Perhaps he wasn't quite the ogre she had thought him.

She tried to meet his honesty in equal measure. "You were only relating the truth."

"I should have been far gentler in the telling of it. I'm not what anyone would call a diplomat."

"I shouldn't have blamed you for what you said. After all, it's not your fault that I'm a-"

"A beautiful and fascinating woman," he finished for her.

Flushing, Luna fumbled with the napkin and laid it over her midriff. She didn't feel beautiful and fascinating, and she certainly didn't feel like a worldly-wise courtesan. "Thank you," she said with difficulty. "But I'm not the woman you think I am... at least, for the present I'm not. I don't remember anything about myself. And I don't know how to behave with you."

"That's all right," Draco interrupted, sitting in the bedside chair. He seemed relaxed and casual, but his gaze didn't leave her for a moment. "Behave however you wish. No one is going to force you to do something you don't want, least of all me."

Difficult as it was, she took a deep breath and returned his gaze. "Then you won't want me to-"

"No," he said quietly. "I've already told you that I won't bother you that way. Not until you desire it."

"And if I never desire it?" she forced herself to ask in a mortified scrape of a whisper.

"The choice is entirely yours," he assured her. A crooked smile tugged at his mouth. "But be forewarned. My attractions may grow on you."

Abashed, Luna swiftly dropped her gaze to the dainty meal before her. The plate contained slivers of chicken, a dab of pudding, a spoonful of vegetables in cream. She picked up a bread roll and bit into it. It seemed to take an unusual amount of effort to chew and swallow the morsel. "This is your room, isn't it? I would like to move to the guest room as soon as it's convenient. I don't wish to deprive you of your own bed."

"Stay here. I want you to be comfortable."

"It's very grand, but the bed is too large for me, and..." Luna hesitated, unable to tell him that she felt surrounded by him in this room, even when he wasn't here. His scent and his distinctly masculine aura seemed to linger in the air. "Have I been here before?" she asked suddenly. "I mean in your house... in this room?"

"No. This is the first time you've been a guest in my home."

On the occasions when they had been intimate, she guessed they had trysted in her bed, or some other place. She was too embarrassed to ask for details. "Mr. Malfoy-Draco -there is something I want to ask..."

"Yes?"

"Promise you won't laugh at me. Please."

"All right."

She picked up a silver fork and toyed with the prongs, focusing all her attention on the utensil. "Was there any love between us? Any affection? Or was it merely a sort of business arrangement?" She could hardly bear the thought that she might have sold her body only for money. Her face burned hot with shame as she waited for the answer. To her relief, he didn't jeer or laugh.

"It wasn't all business," he said carefully. "I thought you would offer some ease and enjoyment I needed badly."

"Then one could say we're friends?" Luna asked, grasping the fork so hard that the prongs left scarlet marks on the flesh of her palm.

"Yes, we're-" Breaking off, Malfoy took the fork from her and rubbed the sore spot on her palm with his thumb. He cradled her hand in his large one, frowning at the little red marks. "We're friends, Luna," he muttered. "Don't distress yourself. You're hardly a cheap wh... prostitute. You're an exclusive courtesan, and few people think the worse of you for it."

"I do," Luna said painfully. "I think very much the worse of me for it. I wish I were anything else."

"You'll get used to the idea."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she whispered.

Something in her woeful gaze seemed to bother him. Letting go of her hand, he muttered an imprecation and left the room, while she stared morosely at the cooling food on her plate.

* * *

"Oh, I couldn't wear that," Luna said, staring at the gown that had been laid out for her. It was one of four that Draco had brought from her town house, and while she had no doubt that the gown was hers, she very much doubted its tastefulness, although the garment was beautifully designed and well made, the color, a dark velvet that captured the intense tones of a ripe plum or black cherries, would prove a jarring clash with her skin. She added ruefully, "Not with this carrot top. I'll look a fright."

Mrs. Buttons surveyed her critically as Mary helped her from the bath and began to dry her off with a thick length of white toweling. "I think you might be pleasantly surprised, Miss Lovegood. Won't you try it on and see?"

"Yes, I'll try," Luna said, shivering as the cool air chased over her exposed skin, raising gooseflesh from head to toe. "But there's every chance I'll look ridiculous."

"I assure you, such a thing isn't possible," Mrs. Buttons replied. Over the last three days, the housekeeper's manner with Luna had changed from distant politeness to warm kindness, and the rest of the household staff had promptly followed suit. Sincerely grateful for the help they offered her, Luna praised and thanked the servants whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Had Luna been a high-ranking noblewoman, she supposed she would have accepted their service as her due, and taken care not to become familiar with them. However, she was far from an aristocrat, and in light of what she knew about her own dissolute past, she thought the servants of the Malfoy household were more than kind. There was no doubt they all knew what she was, and what she had been, and still they treated her with the deference they would have accorded a duchess. When she remarked on this fact to Mrs. Buttons, the housekeeper had explained with a wry smile.

"For one thing, Mr. Malfoy has made it clear that he values you, and wishes you to be treated as a respected guest. But more than that, Miss Lovegood, your character speaks for itself. No matter what is said about you, the servants can see that you are a kind and decent young woman."

"But I'm not," Luna said. Unable to look into the housekeeper's face, she bent her head. There had been a long silence, and then she had felt Mrs. Button's gentle hand on her shoulder.

"We all have mistakes to overcome," the housekeeper said quietly. "And yours aren't the worst I've heard of. Thanks to Mr. Malfoy's profession, I have seen and known some of the more wretched characters imaginable, who have no bit of goodness or hope left in them. You are far from that desperate state."

"Thank you," Luna had whispered, utterly humble. "I'll try to justify your kindness to me." Ever since that moment, Mrs. Buttons had assumed an almost motherly protectiveness toward her.

As for Draco, Luna had seen little of him, as he occupied himself with investigating her case and one or two others. He checked on her in the mornings, talked for five minutes or so, and then was gone for the rest of the day. In the evenings he returned for a spartan and solitary supper and read books in the library.

Draco was a mysterious figure to Luna. The ha-penny novels that the maid, Mary, had loaned to her had shed little light on his character. The novels emphasized the adventurous side of Draco's nature, detailing the crimes he had solved and his famous pursuit of a murderer across two continents. However, it was clear the author knew nothing of him personally. Luna suspected that few people desired to know the real nature of the man, preferring the outsized tales of a legend. It was usually that way with famous men-people wanted to know about their accomplishments and strengths, not their vulnerabilities.

But it was precisely Draco's weaknesses that interested Luna. He appeared to have so few of them. He was a private, seemingly invulnerable man who didn't like to talk about his past. Luna couldn't help wondering what secrets and memories were contained in his carefully guarded heart. One thing was certain... Draco would never trust her in that way.


	9. Who is She?

**_Disclaimer_** _– I own nothing! The characters belong to J.K Rowling and Lisa Kleypas. And the plot belongs to Lisa Kleypas in a novel with the same title._

* * *

Chapter 9

Luna was well aware of Draco's contempt for the life she had led before her "accident." It was obvious that he didn't like or approve of the woman she had been, and she could hardly blame him, as she felt exactly the same. Unfortunately, in the course of his investigation, Draco seemed to be uncovering more unsavory facts about her. He had admitted that he had been questioning the people who knew her. It appeared that whatever they had told him had been neither especially helpful nor particularly pleasant.

Frowning, Luna tried to push the depressing thoughts to the back of her mind. She held on to the back of a nearby chair to preserve her balance as Mary fastened the velvet gown. Her ankle had healed rapidly, until it was almost as good as new, except for an ache that occurred when she stood on it for too long.

"There," Mrs. Buttons said in satisfaction, standing back to view Luna with a smile. "The gown is lovely, and the color couldn't be more perfect." Carefully Luna made her way to the mirror, which afforded a three-quarters view. To her surprise, the housekeeper was right. The deep black-cherry velvet made her skin look like porcelain. Black silk braiding trimmed the modestly high neckline. More lengths of silk braiding defined the vertical slash that went from neck to collarbone, affording a subtle glimpse of white skin. No other adornment marred the simple lines of the gown, except for the puffs of black silk that edged the hem of the flowing skirt. It was an elegant garment, suitable for any lady of quality. Luna was relieved to discover that she owned some clothes that didn't proclaim "courtesan" to everyone who saw her.

"Thank goodness," she murmured, giving Mary and Mrs. Buttons a self-deprecating smile. "I feel nearly respectable."

"If you please, Miss Lovegood," Mary said, "I should like to brush out your hair and pin it up proper. You'll look every inch the fine lady then-and won't Mr. Malfoy be pleased to see you turned out so well!"

"Thank you, Mary." Luna made her way to the dressing table, pausing to pick up the length of damp toweling discarded from her bath.

"No, no," the maid scolded, rushing forward at the same time that Mrs. Buttons did. "I've told you, Miss Lovegood, you're not to help me with such things!"

Luna handed the towel with an uncomfortable smile. "I can pick up the linens just as easily as you can."

"But it's not your place," Mary said, ushering her toward the dressing-table chair.

Mrs. Buttons stood close to Luna, meeting her gaze in the mirror. The housekeeper smiled pleasantly, but her eyes were speculative. "I don't believe you're accustomed to being waited on," she remarked.

Luna sighed weakly. "I don't remember what I'm accustomed to."

"A lady with servants would never think to straighten a room or pour her own bath, even if she forgot every blessed fact in her head."

"But I know I had servants." Luna picked up a stray hairpin from the little box Mary had brought, and traced the crimped edge. "At least, I did according to Mr. Malfoy. I was a spoiled creature who did nothing except-" She stopped and frowned sadly.

Mrs. Buttons watched as Mary brushed out the shining length of Luna's golden hair. "You certainly don't behave like a 'spoiled creature,'" the housekeeper said. "And in my opinion some things about you wouldn't change no matter what has happened to your memory." She shrugged philosophically and smiled. "But then, I'm hardly a doctor. And I can scarcely keep order of what's in my own head, much less divine what's in someone else's."

Mary dressed Luna's hair in a simple style, pinning a braided knot atop her head and allowing a few strands to curl around her neck and ears. Enjoying the feeling of being properly clothed and turned out, Luna decided she would like to visit some other part of the house. "It would be a treat just to sit for a while in a room different from this one," she said. "Is there a small parlor or perhaps even a library downstairs? Does Mr. Malfoy have a few books I might be able to look at?"

For some reason the question caused the housekeeper and the maid to exchange a smile. "Just a few," Mrs. Buttons replied. "I'll show you to the library, Miss Lovegood. But you must take care not to injure your ankle again, and you mustn't tire yourself."

Eagerly Luna took the woman's arm, and they made their way downstairs step by step carefully. The town house was exceptionally magnificent, filled with dark panels of mahogany, thick English carpets underfoot, clean-lined Sheraton furniture, and fireplaces fitted with generous slabs of marble. As they approached the library, the air was rich with the smells of beeswax, leather, and vellum. Sniffing appreciatively, Luna entered the room. She wandered to the center and turned a slow circle, her eyes wide with wonder.

"One of the largest rooms in the house," Mrs. Buttons said proudly. "Mr. Malfoy spared no expense in housing his precious books in first-rate style."

Luna stared reverently at the towering glass-fronted bookcases, the map cabinets embossed with gold letters, kthe marble busts positioned at each corner of the room. Her gaze fell to the tables loaded with books, many of them left open and piled atop each other, as if the reader had been called away hastily in the middle of an intriguing passage. "It's not merely a vanity collection, is it?" she asked aloud.

"No, the master is quite devoted to his books." Mrs. Buttons repositioned a comfortable chair by the cheerful fire and drew back a curtain to admit plenty of daylight. "I'll leave you to explore, Miss Lovegood. Shall I send a tea tray for you?"

Luna shook her head and wandered from one bookcase to another, her gaze rapidly scanning the enticing rows. The housekeeper laughed suddenly. "Until now, I've never seen anyone look at books the way Mr. Malfoy does," she remarked.

Barely aware of the housekeeper's departure, Luna opened a glass door and examined a row of poetry. Something strange happened as she read one title after another... Many of them seemed startlingly familiar, the words connecting in a way that made her quiver with surprise. Mesmerized, she reached for one of the books. She opened it, the textured leather binding soft beneath her fingers, and found a poem by John Keats entitled "Ode to a Grecian Urn."Thou still unrevised bride of quietness... It seemed as if she had read the words a thousand times before. A door opened in her mind, illuminating knowledge that had been stored away until this moment. Thoroughly unnerved, Luna clutched the open volume against her chest and grabbed another off the shelf and another... Shakespeare, Keats, Donne, Blake. There were many other instantly recognizable poems, fragments of which she could even recite by memory.

The relief of remembering something made her almost dizzy with excitement. She picked up and held as many books as possible, crowding them against her body, dropping a few in her haste. She wanted to carry them all to a quiet corner, and read and read.

On a lower shelf she discovered well-worn volumes of philosophy. Snatching up Descartes's Meditations, she flipped it open and feverishly read a passage aloud. "There is nothing, among the things I once believed to be true, which it is not permissible to doubt..."

Luna hugged the open book to her chest, mind swimming with chaotic impressions. She was positive she had once studied this book, these words, with someone she had cared for very much. The familiarity of the words gave her a sense of safety and comfort she needed desperately. She closed her eyes and clutched the book harder, straining to capture some elusive memory.

"Well." A sardonic rumble broke the silence. "I wouldn't have expected to find you in the library. What have you found that interests you?"

Luna whirled to see Draco filling the doorway, the corner of his mouth tightened in a jaded quirk that passed for a smile. The somber gray of his trousers and waistcoat was balanced by a moss-colored coat that brightened the antique grey of his eyes. She stumbled forward in her excitement, anxious to share her discovery.

"Draco," she said breathlessly, while her heart raced in an uneven canter. A few books cascaded from her overburdened arms. "I-I found these... I remember reading some of them... You can't imagine how it feels." A wild, frustrated laugh escaped her. "Oh, why can't I remember more? If only-"

"Luna," he said quietly, his smile fading. He reached her in three strides, helping to steady the jostling pile in her overburdened arms. As Luna read the frown of concern on his face, she knew that she must appear half mad. More words bubbled to her lips, but he hushed her gently.

"Let me," he said, taking the mass of heavy volumes out of her unsteady grip. He set them on a nearby table and turned to her. Clasping her shoulders in his large hands, he eased her against his body. He held her in a reassuring embrace, his hand smoothing over the back of the velvet gown and lightly rubbing the lowest point of her spine. As he spoke, his breath stirred the fine hairs at her temple. "Tell me what you remember."

Luna shivered at the pleasure of being in his arms. "I know I've read some of these books before, with someone I was very fond of. I can't see his face, or hear his voice... It seems the harder I try, the farther it slips away."

"You've read these books?" Draco asked dubiously, glancing at the ungainly pile beside them.

Luna nodded against his chest. "I can even recite a passage or two."

"All right."

Perplexed by his respond, she glanced at his skeptical face. "Why do you sound like you doubt me? Don't you believe me?"

She was encompassed in his vivid, considering stare. "It's not in character for you," he finally said.

"I'm telling you the truth," she said defensively.

"You've read Descartes," he remarked, every syllable edged with disbelief. "I should like to hear your opinion on Cartesian dualism, then."

Luna thought for a long moment, inwardly relieved to discover that she understood the question. "I suppose you're referring to Mr. Descartes's theory that spirit and matters are separate entities? That we cannot rely on our senses as the basis of knowledge? I believe he is correct, and I think..." She paused and continued more slowly. "I think the truth is something you recognize with your heart, even when the evidence seems to prove otherwise."

Though Draco's expression gave little away, Luna sensed that she had surprised him. "It seems I'm harboring a philosopher," he said, his eyes suddenly glinting with humor. He set the book on the library table and reached for another on the shelf. "Tell me what you make of Locke, then, and his differences with Descartes."

Luna took the book from him and spread her small hand on the morocco leather binding. "Mr. Locke argues that the human mind is a blank tablet at birth, doesn't he?" She glanced at Draco and received an encouraging nod. "And he claims that knowledge is founded in experience. Thought can only come after we learn through our senses. But I don't think I agree with him entirely. We are not born blank slates, are we? I think some things must exist in us at birth, before experience begins to work upon us."

Draco took the book from her and replaced it on the shelf, and turned back to her. Unaccountably gentle, he tucked a stray wisp of her golden hair behind her ear. "Can you tell me what other books are familiar to you?"

Luna went to another set of shelves and began pulling titles from the tidy rows... history, novels, theology, and drama. She began to stack them in a second heap on the table. "I'm positive I've read this one, and this, and these, oh, and this was one of my favorites."

He smiled at her enthusiasm. "You're remarkably well read for a woman who never reads."

"Why would you say such a thing?" she asked in surprise.

"Lord Gerard assured me that you dislike reading."

"But that can't be true."

"You're a chameleon, Luna," he said quietly. "You adapt to the taste of whatever company you find yourself in."

"Then you're suggesting that I concealed my enjoyment of reading and pretended to be stupid in order to attract Lord Gerard," she said.

"You wouldn't be the first woman to use that ploy. Many men are made uneasy by an intelligent female."

"Is Lord Gerard that kind of gentleman?" Reading the answer in his face, she sighed heavily. "Every day I learn something new about myself. And none of it pleasant."

As Draco regarded her downcast head, he was assailed by a strange yearning he had never experienced before. He had been so certain of who and what Luna Lovegood was... and she kept confounding him.

His gaze skimmed over her in a thorough survey. The sight of her in the velvet gown, a red so dark it approached black, caused a response that was alarming in its intensity. He had never once allowed himself to imagine that somewhere in the world there might be a woman who wasn't only beautiful but intelligent, kind, and unaffected. The fact that he seemed to have found her in Luna was astonishing. He was again uncomfortably aware that if she hadn't been a courtesan, had he hadn't possessed his prior knowledge of her true character, he would be mad for her.

The neat golden strands of her hair revealed the daintiest pair of ears he had ever seen, a vulnerable neck, a delicate jaw that made his fingers itches to investigate the soft curve. He murmured her name, and she looked up at him with clear, deep blue eyes that contained no hint of guile. Remembering how wickedly seductive her gaze had once been, Draco shook his head. "What is it?" she asked.

"You have the eyes of an angel." His gaze searched her face until a tide of pink crept over it.

"Thank you," she said uncertainly.

Draco took her arm in a gentle grasp. "Come with me."

As he drew her to a chair by the fire and urged her to sit, Luna glanced at him warily. "Are you going to question me further?"

"No," he said, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. For now, he was going to ignore all the contradictions about Luna and allow himself to simply enjoy being with her. A beautiful woman, a fire on the hearth, a roomful of books, and a bottle of wine... It might not have been every man's idea of heaven, but God knew it was his.

Carrying an armload of books to Luna, he deposited the stack on the floor near her feet. Seeming to understand that he merely wanted to spend some time with her, Luna began to sort through the pile, while he pulled a bottle of Bordeaux from the sideboard and opened it expertly. After filling two glasses, he sat in a chair beside her and handed one to her. He noted that she sipped the wine immediately, without the usual ritual of those accustomed to sampling fine vintages... no swirling of the glass to test the aroma, or the rivulets that the English called "legs" and the French more poetically referred to as "tears." As a member of the beau monde, Luna should have been experienced at such a ritual. However, she didn't look like a worldly courtesan accustomed to the finer things in life... she looked like a sheltered, naive young woman.

Who is she? Now, Draco confused.


	10. Lady of Pity

**_Disclaimer_** _– I own nothing! The characters belong to J.K Rowling and Lisa Kleypas. The plot belongs to Lisa Kleypas in a novel with the same title._

* * *

Chapter 10

"This gives me hope," she remarked, picking up the volume at the top of the pile and holding it in her lap. "I know it's a small thing, to remember reading some of these books... but if this little bit of my memory has come back, then perhaps other things will too."

"You said you remembered reading with someone." Draco drank from his own glass, his gaze remaining on her lovely face. "You referred to that person as a 'he', any impression of him? Any detail of his appearance or the sound of his voice? Or a place you might have been with him?"

"No." The soft curves of her mouth became enticingly wistful. "But trying to remember makes me feel..." She paused and stared into the ruby depths of the wine. "Lonely," she continued with visible effort. "As if I've lost something, or someone, that was very dear."

A lost love, Draco speculated, and experienced a sudden wash of jealousy. Concealing the unwelcome emotion, he stared hard into his own glass.

"Here," Luna murmured, handing him the book of Keats. "Won't you tell me which your favorite passage is?"

Luna watched Draco's bent head as he thumbed through the worn pages. The firelight flickered over his blond hair, making it gleam like silver. The thick locks were cropped too short, but even so, they contained a hint of curl and wave that intrigued her. He should let them grow longer, she thought, to add a touch of softness around the uncompromising angles of his face.

Her gaze moved to the volume that was nearly engulfed by his long-fingered hand. No sculptor would ever desire to capture the shape of those brutally strong hands in marble... and that was a pity. Luna thought them a hundred times more attractive than the slender, fine hands of a gentleman. Besides, it wouldn't seem right for a man built on his impressive scale to have delicate little hands. The thought brought a smile to her face.

Glancing upward, Draco caught sight of her expression and arched his brow quizzically. "What's so amusing?"

She pushed herself out of the chair and knelt beside him, her skirts billowing briefly and settling in velvety wine-colored puddles on the floor. For answer, she took one of his hands and measured her own against it, flattening their palms together. His fingers extended well beyond her own meager reach.

"I don't remember the other gentlemen of my acquaintance," she said, "but I have no doubt you must be the largest man I have ever met." Heat collected between their clasped palms, and Luna snatched her hand away, blotting a faint sheen of moisture on the skirt of her gown. "What is it like to be so tall?" She asked.

"It's a constant headache," Draco answered dryly, setting the book aside. "My head is well acquainted with the top of every doorframe in London."

Luna's smile turned sympathetic. "You must have been a long-legged, gangly child."

"Like a monkey on stilts," he agreed, making her laugh.

"Oh, poor Mr. Malfoy. Did the other boys tease you?"

"Endlessly, and when I wasn't trading insults, I was busy fighting. They each wanted to be the one to thrash the largest boy at Lady of Pity."

"Lady of Pity?" Luna repeated the name unfamiliar to her. "Is that a school?"

"Orphanage." Draco seemed to regret the revelation as soon as it left his lips. At Luna's silence, he threw her an unfathomable glance. For one electric moment, she saw a flash of defiance-or perhaps it was bitterness-smoldering in the depths of grey of his eyes. "I wasn't always an orphan," he muttered. "My father was a bookseller, a good man, though damned poor at making business decisions. A few bad loans to friends followed by a year of poor sales landed the entire family in debtor's prison. And of course, once you go in, you never come out. There is no way for a man to make money to pay his debts once he's in prison."

"How old were you?" Luna asked.

"Nine... ten, perhaps, I don't remember exactly."

"What happened?"

"Disease went through the prison. My parents died. I lived through it, and was sent to Lady of Pity. After a year I was thrown out to the streets for 'disrupting internal order'."

The recitation was matter-of-fact, emotionless, but Luna sensed the pain and hostility banked beneath his calm facade. "Why?" She murmured.

"My brother—not my brother, just a boy I consider my brother—Jack, was small for his age, and somewhat sensitive by nature. The other boys were apt to bully him."

"And you fought to defend him," she said.

He nodded briefly. "After a particularly nasty fight, the director of the orphanage reviewed my record, which was filled with words like 'violent' and 'incorrigible.' It was decided that I posed a hazard to the other children. I found myself outside the orphanage walls with no food or possessions save the clothes on my back. I stayed by the gate for two days and nights, shouting to get back in. I knew what was going to happen to Jack if I weren't there to protect him. Finally one of the teachers came out and promised me that he would do what was in his power to look after my brother. He advised me to leave and try to make some kind of life for myself. And so I did."

Luna tried to imagine him as a boy; young and frightened, torn away from the last living link with his family... forced to make his own way in the world. It would have been so terribly easy for him to turn to crime and violence as a way of life. Instead he had come to serve the society that had victimized him. He made no effort to pose as a hero, however. In fact, he had deliberately painted himself as a self-serving scoundrel who upheld the law only for the profits he made from it. What kind of man would commit himself to helping others while at the same time disclaiming his own good motives?

"Why this?" she asked. "Why become an Auror?"

Draco shrugged, and his mouth twisted cynically. "It comes naturally to me. Who better to understand the criminal element than someone who comes from the streets? I'm a mere step away from being one of them."

"That's not true," she said earnestly.

"It is," he muttered. "I'm just the other side of the same bad coin."

In the ensuing silence, Luna made a project of straightening a stack of books on the floor. She pondered his bleak words, the stillness of his large body, the tension that shredded the air. He seemed as unfeeling and immovable as a block of granite. However, she suspected that his invulnerability was an illusion. He had known so little softness in his life, so little comfort. A powerful urge took hold of her, to reach out and hug him, and pull his head to her shoulder. Common sense prevailed, however. He wouldn't want or welcome comfort from her, and she would probably earn a humiliating jeer for her pains. If she was wise, she would let the subject drop for now.

But another question slipped out before she could prevent it. "Where is Jack now?" Draco seemed not to hear her, so she repeated. "Where is Jack?" she asked again, kneeling before him, staring into his averted face.

The grey eyes shifted, his gaze meeting hers with searing impact.

"Please," she said softly. "You know the worst about me. Surely you can trust me this far. Tell me."

Dark color crept over his face. It seemed as if some terrible secret were leaking poison inside him. Just as she thought he wouldn't answer, he spoke in a rusted, halting ramble, so softly that she couldn't hear some of the words. "I went back for Jack when I was able... had secured a promise of work for him at a fishmonger's stall where I cleaned and wrapped fish. I knew they would let him leave the orphanage if some relative were to speak for him. I was nearly fourteen, a man by most standards, ready to take care of him. But when I went to Lady of Pity and asked for Jack... they told me he was gone."

"Gone?" Luna repeated. "Had he run away?"

"Smallpox, half the children in the orphanage had it. Jack died without me there... without anyone who loved him."

Words failed her. She regarded him sorrowfully, pressing her hand hard against her thigh to keep from touching him.

"And I knew," he said quietly, "that if I had come sooner... I could have saved him."

"No," Luna replied, shocked. "You mustn't think of it that way."

"It's a fact. There's no other way to think of it."

"You're not being fair to yourself."

"I failed him," he said flatly. "That's all that matters." He stood in one fluid movement and turned to the fire, staring into the sputtering coals. Snatching up a poker, he jabbed at a log until it erupted into fiery life.

Luna stood as well, her hands clenched into fists as she stared at his broad, hard back, his head silhouetted in fire-glow. Her compassion for him overrode any concerns about her own problems. Draco had devoted his life to saving others because he hadn't been able to save his brother. Yet no matter how many times he rescued and helped and served others, he would never be able to absolve himself of his one great failure. He would be haunted by guilt for the rest of his life. Her entire being was filled with one aching wish... that she could find some way to help him. But there was nothing she could do.

Her hand touched his shoulder, lingered, then slid to the hot nape of his neck. His entire body seemed to stiffen at her touch, and she felt the ripple of nerves in his neck. He jerked away with a muffled curse, looking as if she had burned him. "No," he said savagely. "I don't need pity from a who-" He stopped, choking off the rest of the sentence.

The unspoken word floated in the air between them.

Luna knew perfectly well what he had been about to say and the hurt of it jolted through her. But why hadn't he completed the sentence? Why had he reined in his temper in a last-second attempt to spare her feelings? She stared at him curiously, while a feeling of artificial calmness descended on her. "Thank you," she said with only a slight tremor in her voice. "Thank you for not saying it." She forced a smile.

"Luna," he said gruffly, "I-"

"I shouldn't have asked such personal questions," she said, clinging to her meager supply of dignity as she began to retreat from the room. "I am very tired, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps I'll go upstairs and rest." She heard him begin to say something else, but she fled the library as quickly as possible, leaving him to his brooding contemplation of the fire.


	11. Stay

**_Disclaimer_** _– I own nothing! The characters belong to J.K Rowling and Lisa Kleypas. The plot belongs to Lisa Kleypas._

Chapter 11

* * *

Draco left the house before supper, while Luna dined in solitude. She wondered what companions he would seek tonight, if he would lounge in a coffee shop and take part in some political discussion, or visit his club and play cards while a saucy wench perched on his knee. There would be no shortage of available women for such a man. Draco had the appearance of a gentleman, but he possessed a hint of street swagger, a combination irresistible to any female. No doubt he had inspired countless fantasies among the women of London, either high or low.

A cold heaviness settled in her chest, making it difficult to eat more than a few bites of tasty lamb. Taking several books with her, Luna retired to bed and read until her eyes tired. However, the books failed to work their magic, her eyes were tired but she couldn't sleep.

Someone had tried to murder her, and would possibly try again when it was discovered that she was alive. Although she had faith in Draco's ability to protect her and uncover the identity of her assailant, she also knew that he wasn't infallible. And instead of being a help to him and supplying the information that would solve everything, she sat here like a dunce, all relevant facts locked away in some impenetrable vault in her mind. It was maddening.

Setting the book aside, Luna rolled to her stomach and contemplated the shadows cast by the bedside lamp. What would become of her? She had ruined herself by choosing a path that no decent woman would venture along. There were few options left, other than to return to prostitution, to find some man who might condescend to marry her, or to try her hand at some kind of respectable work that might yield enough to support her. Only the third choice held any appeal. But who would employ her when she had a publicly ruined character?

Morosely Luna stared at a lock of her own golden hair as it curled across the mattress. Without vanity, she understood that her looks were sufficient to attract men, whether or not she desired their attentions. And she would never be able to hide the fact that she had once been a prostitute. The truth would always come out. No matter what position she held, there would be men, insulting and propositioning, offering sexual bargains if she wished to retain her job.

Luna wrestled with the increasingly unpleasant thoughts before falling into an uneasy sleep. More nightmares awaited her, dreams of water and drowning and choking. She twisted against the sheets, kicked and struggled until the sheets wrapped around her legs. Finally she awakened with a low cry and sat bolt upright, breathing hard, eyes staring blankly in the darkness.

"Luna."

The quiet voice made her quiver in startled reaction. "What-"

"I heard you cry out. I came to see if you were all right."

Draco, she thought, but his familiar presence didn't make her relax. For a split second she feared that he had come to demand that she take him into her bed. Or his bed, as the case was. "It was only a nightmare," she said shakily. "I'm all right now. I'm sorry if I bothered you." Luna saw Draco's outline in the darkness, a huge shadowy figure that approached the side of the bed. Her heartbeat fluttered and faltered in alarm. Shrinking to the center of the mattress, she went rigid as he reached for the covers. In a few quick, deft motions he straightened the linens and folded the top of the sheet over the edge of the blankets.

"Would you like a glass of water?" he asked matter-of-factly.

The question was reassuringly innocuous. Although Luna didn't remember any of her previous knowledge about men and sexual matters, it didn't seem likely that a seducer would offer a woman a glass of water before ravishing her. "No, thank you," she murmured, reshaping a pillow behind her. A shaky laugh escaped her. "Perhaps you could light the lamp? The nightmares are so vivid, I'm afraid to fall asleep again. Silly, isn't it? I'm no better than a child afraid of the dark."

"No, it's not silly." His voice changed, becoming very gentle. "Let me stay with you tonight, Luna. It's only a few hours until morning."

She was silent with confusion.

"I'll hold you… as a friend," he said quietly. "As a brother, all I want is to keep the nightmares away." He paused, and a subtle trace of laughter wound its way through his next words. "Well, that's not all I want... but the rest will keep for later. Shall I stay, or would you prefer me to light the lamp?"

With more than a little surprise, Luna realized that she did indeed wish him to stay. It wasn't the wisest of decisions. She was certainly inviting trouble. But the comfort of another human being would indeed keep the nightmares at bay... and it hardly hurt that he was a large, strong male who feared nothing.

"First let me ask something," she said cautiously. "What are you wearing?"

"What do you mean, what am I wearing?" he asked in confused.

She decided to be blunt. "You aren't naked, are you?"

"I put on a robe before I came in here," he replied dryly. "Disappointed?"

"No," she said, so quickly that it drew a catch of laughter from him.

"I'm a fairly impressive sight without my clothes, if you wonder."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Let's have it, Miss Lovegood... Shall I stay or leave?"

Luna hesitated a long time before replying. "Stay," she said softly.

The mattress depressed beneath Draco's considerable weight. Luna sucked in a deep breath and pressed her fists hard in the lee of her stomach to calm the nervous flurry inside. The covers were lifted and his long, large body slid beside hers. Immediately she was suffused with warmth as they were cocooned beneath the layer of linen and wool.

With extreme care, Draco curved his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, so they were pressed together spoon fashion. Luna couldn't prevent a small gasp at the animal heat and hardness of his body, evident through the nightclothes that separated them.

"You're not afraid, are you?" he murmured at the soft sound.

"No," she replied breathlessly. "But... I'm having a difficult time thinking of you as a friend."

The arm at her waist tightened a minute degree. "Good," he said thickly.

Luna was quiet for a time, absorbing the sensation of being held by him. She was surrounded by the scents of soap and clean male skin, and the heat that warded off the night-chilled air. Her limbs turned heavy and relaxed, and she felt her spine conform to the shape of his body. She inched backward, seeking more of the delicious contact with him. Gently his hand fell to her hip, keeping her still.

"Don't wiggle about." He sounded a bit gruff. "I'm not a eunuch."

A wave of mortification engulfed her as she became aware of the burning shape of his arousal, wedged high against her butt and the small of her back. "I don't think this is a good idea," she managed. "I'll never fall asleep this way."

"Do you want me to leave?"

Considering the question in confounded silence, Luna struggled with the headings of her conscience and the pure physical pleasure of being in his arms. Her conscience was soon to be disappointed. "Well..." she said uncertainly, "I'm not sleeping, but at least I won't have nightmares."

He chuckled. "I'm glad you trust me. I expected you to turn down my offer."

"I almost did," she replied. "But it occurred to me that if you were going to ravish me, you had a few opportunities before tonight."

"I would never force myself on an unwilling woman."

"I should imagine you rarely encounter one of those."

"Oh, there have been a few," he said dryly.

Resting quietly against him, Luna felt his breath stir the downy fuzz on the nape of her neck. One of her bare feet touched his ankle, the brush of wiry masculine hair tickling her skin pleasantly. He was an excessively masculine creature, and the knowledge that all his strength and virility were held in check but for one word from her should have frightened her. Instead she was fascinated. Flirting with danger was an undeniably heady feeling.

"Draco?" she said softly. "Why have you never married?"

He chuckled. "I'm not the marrying kind." He picked up the braided rope of her hair and played with the feathery ends.

"You never intend to have a wife and children?"

"What reason is there? I feel no overwhelming need to continue a damned undistinguished family line. Neither do I have great confidence in my ability to stay faithful to one woman for a lifetime. When I want female companionship, I can get it. My servants look after the household and see to my meals and my comfort. What use would I have for a wife?"

"You've never met a woman you couldn't live without?"

She felt him smile against the back of her head. "You've read too many novels."

"I'm sure you're right," she said ruefully. "Nevertheless... won't you regret it when you're old and gray, and you have no life's companion to reminisce with-"

"And no grandchildren to dandle on my knee," he finished. "Thank you, but I have no ambitions to produce offspring who will yank my whiskers and hide my walking stick behind the settee. I'd rather enjoy some peace in my old age... if I live that long."

"How cynical you are."

"I am," he acknowledged evenly. "The strange part is you are too. But to listen to you, one would think you're an idealistic innocent."

"I don't feel cynical," she remarked after a moment. "I don't feel like anything you've told me I am."

A contemplative silence followed, while the warm pressure of his hand settled at her shoulder.

"Draco," she said with a stifled yawn, "how long before I'm allowed to visit my town house?"

"When Dr. Remus Lupin says you're fit to be up and about."

"Good. He's coming to see me tomorrow. I'm sure he won't have any objections to my going."

"Why the hurry?" Draco asked softly. "What do you hope to find at the town house?"

"My memory." She pressed her head deeper into the welcoming softness of the pillow. "When I see my familiar possessions and all my own books, I'm positive that everything will come back to me. I'm so weary of feeling so... so blank."

"You don't have many books," he said. "I don't recall seeing more than a handful."

"Oh." She twisted to face him, their noses nearly touching in the darkness. "Why do I like things now that I didn't like before?"

"I don't know." His breath, scented with cinnamon and the slightest hint of coffee, puffed against her chin. "Perhaps Lupin will have an answer for that."

"What do you think will happen when I regain my memory? Will I change back to the way I was before?"

"I hope so," he muttered.

"Why?" she asked, hurt by the blunt statement. "You don't like me the way I am now?"

"I like you too damned much," he said brusquely. "And you're going to make it bloody inconvenient for me to-"

"To what?"

He didn't reply, only growled a curse that set her ears on fire. "I warn you, Luna, if you're playing some kind of game with me, I'll probably end up killing you myself."

"I'm not playing a game," she replied innocently. "Why would I? If I had anything to tell regarding the person who tried to drown me, believe me, I would come out with it right away. I won't be safe until he's caught, will I?"

"No, you won't, which leads to one last point... you're not to go anywhere without me."

"Of course, I'm not stupid."

His large hands turned her over to face away from him and urged her to the center of the bed, until they were at least an arm's length apart. "Now, stay there," he said. "And mind you don't roll against me in the night, or you won't like what happens."

"There's no danger of that," she responded pertly. "This bed is so large; we may as well be in separate counties."

Somehow, against Luna's expectations, she did fall asleep that night, and she wasn't troubled by a single dream. Once or twice she awoke and saw the dark outline of Draco's solid body. There was a novel comfort in sleeping with a man, a sense of being utterly protected. Perhaps they did have their uses, she reflected drowsily, before sinking into a satisfying slumber.


End file.
